Webb Odyssey
by Claire Vincent
Summary: Final Chapter, really! Couldn't resist just one more short chapter to wrap it all up. Clay becomes a father!
1. Default Chapter

Author: Claire Vincent

Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character belongs to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For you reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.

WEBB Odyssey

Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.

CHAPTER ONE

TWICE

Clayton Webb finds himself in trouble, at what should be an easy assignment in Moscow. Luckily, he meets a special woman that helps him. If only he could see her more than twice.

American Embassy Complex,

Annex Building,

Moscow

2100 hours, Local Time

Clayton Webb moved swiftly along the corridor of the Annex Building. He was in a hurry to reach the Atrium before the end of the evening's session of conferences. It had been a long day, and it would not be over soon. The official meetings were scheduled to end soon, but there would be a reception of sorts in the Atrium when the principals came out from behind closed doors. One could say that the real negotiations would begin at that time, over appetizers and Vodka.

The meetings were going well. The agreement that was being hammered out would be an important one between the US and Russia. Webb's superior would be leaving in the morning, and Webb and his team would stay a couple more days to work out details of the arrangement between the Intelligence communities of the US and former KGB, whatever they were calling themselves this week.

Webb was confident nothing would go wrong with those plans, but he still could not shake the feeling something was going to happen tonight. He could not explain what exactly, just a prickly feeling at the back of his neck. It was defiantly there, and he could not ignore it. So he hurried down the corridor to be in place when the meetings ended. Webb did not see the shadow that stepped out behind him. He only felt the blow to the base of his head, saw everything go bright red with pain, then fade to black.

Annex Building

American Embassy Complex, Moscow

2115 hours, Local Time

PFC Baker was patrolling his section of the Annex corridor. Every few minutes he could see another team member, PFC Houser on the other end of the building. Everything seemed quiet tonight, even with the place full of officials from Russia and the US holding meetings. Even on the quiet night, his CO, Major Amelia Harris, kept buzzing in his ear piece for a report on his sector. He knew that was standard operating procedure, but it was quiet, and how often did a guy have to report in that all was quiet?

PFC Baker thought about Major Harris. A tough CO, but fair. And she sure knew her stuff about security. She should, she had worked in several different embassies around the world, had a degree in law enforcement, and knew how to run a squadron of Marines. She wasn't too tough to look at either, and had a soft side to her, PFC Baker could tell, but she didn't show it much to the men. Not that Baker had a thing for Major Harris, that wouldn't be right, and she was too old for him anyway, but he had seen uglier COs.

Major Harris' voice buzzed in his ear one more time: 'PFC Baker check on the camera near the SW stairwell. I am not getting a visual from that area.'

'Roger that.' PFC Baker answered, and starting moving in that direction. Probably nothing. Maybe the power cord was crimped between the mounting, and ...

But PFC Baker did not get a chance to finish his thought. As he rounded the corner to enter the stairwell, he was hit across the face with the butt of a gun, and PFC BAKER lost conscienceness.

Major Harris was just coming around the corner of the hall, on her way to back up PFC Baker in the SW stairwell, when she saw 3 figures emerge from the stairwell. Two people were dressed in black, and carrying guns. Between them they were dragging another person who looked sick. This person was dressed in a 3 piece suit, and his head was down.

Major Harris backed up a step so they would not see her. The two in black were moving down the hall as fast as they could with their burden, and were heading for the back exit. Major Harris looked down the opposite hallway, and saw the figure of PFC Baker lying in a heap on the floor. The Major very quietly called in orders for her squad. 'Marines, we have a code blue. Repeat, we are at Code Blue. There is a Marine down in the vicinity of the SW stairwell, and intruders exiting out the back south exit. Martin, cover my six, I am following the intruders. Jensen, you hold the fort.'

She heard the members of the squad acknowledge her orders over her ear piece, but her attention was on the three figures ahead of her. They were leaving the building, with someone, and she was going to follow them.

They left the building, and were making their way across the quad, toward a truck parked in the parking lot. Questions started popping in her mind. Who were these people? Where were they going? Who was with them? Was he sick, or being kidnapped? Major Harris did not recognize the person as a dignitary from the Embassy, but he looked in trouble, and she was going to stop these men, even if she was alone.

Major Harris took cover behind a large boulder in the quad, and fired a warning shot toward the three people. They immediately took cover beside a nearby car, and fired back, leaving their burden in a heap in the open. PFC Martin quickly came up behind Major Harris, and took cover behind a tree. The two intruders started moving toward their truck, leaving the other person behind.

Major Harris looked back at Martin. 'Cover me. I'm going after him.' Martin disagreed, 'Major I can carry that guy out of here better than you.' The Major answered him. 'I know, and you will. But you're a better shot than I am, and I would prefer you cover me and that man right now.' She ordered.

'Aye Aye, ma'm.'

On the count of three, Major Harris ran out from behind the boulder, and made a bee line to the prone figure on the ground, covered by rapid fire from Martin. She was able to grab the man's arm, throw it over her shoulder and drag him to cover behind another car. The other two intruders kept trying to fire to stop her, and Martin ended up killing them both. When the situation was clear, he joined Major Harris behind the car.

The man was regaining consciousness slowly as Major Harris was looking at his ID badge.

'Who is he ma'm?' Martin asked.

'A spook.' Was the Major's answer.

'How do you know, ma'm? His ID says State Department.' Martin pointed out.

'I wouldn't be much of a security officer if I could not tell a spook when I see one Martin. Besides, this one practically has CIA tattooed to his forehead.'

'Where...? Who are you? What is the meaning of this?' The man had regained consciousness, and was not very happy. He was looking angrily at Martin and Major Harris and the private did not like his accusing tone.

Webb's head was pounding, and he still could not see straight, but he knew he was outside, and could smell gun powder in the air. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know right now.

'Major Amelia Harris, and PFC Martin, US Marine Corps. We may have just saved your live, ah,' the voice paused as the Major looked at his ID tag for his name, 'Mr. Webb. We better get you inside and check for more trouble.' As the parking lot light fell across the face under the cap, Webb saw a small nose, high cheekbones, and big brown eyes.

'How did I get out here? What's going on?' Webb demanded.

Major Harris matched his annoyed tone. 'I don't know what is going on, but two men knocked you out, and tried to take you out of the building. I have to get back in there and do my job, before anything else happens.'

'What is your job?' Webb asked.

'Secruity.' Was the answer from the Major.

'Well, I'd say you failed in your duty, Major' Said Webb.

'Saved your life, didn't I?' retorted Major Harris.

Without giving Webb any warning, Major Harris signaled Martin to stand. 'Martin, assist Mr. Webb back into the Annex. Take him to the Comm Center, and see that a corps man gives him whatever medical attention he needs. Then rejoin the squad. We have work to do.'

'Aye Aye' answered Martin as he ungraciously grabbed Webb by the arm and pulled him roughly to his feet. Martin took acceptation to this man giving Major Harris a hard time, after she just saved his life.

'I'm fine, thank you Major. I will be going with you to get to the bottom of this.' Answered Webb.

'You will only get in the way Mr. Webb.' Major Harris answered as she started moving back to the building.

Webb was moving a little slower, but caught up with her again just inside the building. 'Major, you and your team will follow my orders, and I will get to the bottom of this.'

'Mr. Webb, I don't know who you are, or who you think you are, but I have standing orders for situations as this, and my team and I have trained for just these circumstances, and we will follow standard operating procedure.' Came the forceful answer from Major Harris.

Webb looked more closely at the Major. She might be pretty, it was hard to tell under the marine cap, and camouflage fatigues. She sure knew her job, he would give her that much credit. But he needed her and her team, to find out what was going on, before something worse happened. Webb was just going to force his point once again, 'Major, don't argue with me. I out rank you.'

'Out rank me? You are not even in my chain of command, coming from the State Department, if that is to be believed.' Answered the Major, as she began moving down the hallway.

Webb was reminded of another time when he wasn't in the chain of command, but was in someone's sights. And she was in his sights now, and he needed her cooperation. 'Major, I need....' But his argument was interrupted by the sounds of shots being fired in the building.

Major Harris heard them too, and took one last look at Webb. 'I have work to do Mr. Webb, if you will excuse me...?' As she and Martin started down the hallway, Webb could hear her issuing orders over her walkie talkie, 'Marines, we now have a code RED. Repeat, we are at Code RED. Begin converging on Point A, and...' her voice faded away.

Well, maybe she had a point. She had her orders, and so did her squad. They must have trained for situations like this one, they knew what they had to do. Webb sincerely hoped they did. He moved off in the opposite direction toward the Atrium, the same direction the shots came from.

Major Harris and her team began moving in toward the Atrium as quietly as possible. As was standard procedure in a code RED situation, the lights had all gone off in the building. This was to confuse, and set any intruders at a disadvantage, and the Marines at an advantage, since they could use their night vision goggles. Major Harris could see a couple of her men as they moved into position. She could hear shouts from someone speaking to the crowd. They were telling everyone to be quiet, and cooperate, and no one would get hurt. They identified themselves and started listing their demands. Major Harris only half listened, concentrating instead on where her team members were, and assessing the situation. One by one her people moved into position, and started checking in with her, verifying they were sighting on targets in the Atrium, and waiting for her signal to shoot, or move in as the case may be. Her best sharp shooter, PFC Cabirni was in position and had set his sights on the speaker, assumed leader of the intruders.

As Major Harris scanned the crowd, she noted details: How many bad guys were there? How many in the crowd? Was anyone in any immediate danger, or being held at gun point? And that is when she saw him. Mr. Webb had been caught again and was being dragged up to the front of the crowd, a gun pointed at his head. She mentally rolled her eyes in frustration. 'And he had the gall to accuse me of not doing my job.' she thought.

Cabirni whispered in her ear over the ear piece. 'Should I change targets, Major, for the one holding the American at gunpoint?'

'Negitive' came the answer from the Major 'Stay on the speaker, I will take care of Mr. Webb.'

As the speaker continued with his demands, and the group of intruders closed in on the crowd, Major Harris made her decision. The intruders were going to break up the crowd and spread them out in the building, so no group from the outside could come in and safe the hostages easily. She couldn't allow that. As long as the intruders were together, they were easier to catch for her squad. They would have to move now.

Major Harris whispered her orders to her men. 'At my signal, Cabirni take your man out. I have the one holding the American, the rest of you fire at your targets to injure if possible. We may need survivors to interrogate later.'

The Marines watched, and took deep breaths to prepare for the Major's signal. The Major in the mean time finally started listening to the speaker, to wait for the right time to move in. A few tense moments went by, until finally she gave the order. 'Go'

Shots rang out from every direction, a few in the crowd screamed and hit the floor. It was over in a matter of seconds. Some of the intruders lay on the floor with wounds in the legs, or shoulders. Two of them were dead.

Webb had been holding his breath, and when the shots rang out, he had ducked his head too, out of reflex. When he looked behind him, the man that had been holding him had a bullet hole, just right of the center of his forehead, over his right eye. 'Nice shot' thought Webb, as he let his breath go, and took another one to help stop his racing heart. 'I will have to commend the shooter, whoever he is.' He looked around the room, and saw the marine team move in and secure the intruders that were still alive, and check those who were not. Webb saw that the leader who had been speaking was dead, his eyes open in surprise, and his mouth open too, as if he was caught in mid sentence, which had probably been the case. The other agents moved in too, and sort of took over the job the Marines were doing. 'Trying to save face' Webb thought with a smirk. The Marines had ended up doing the Agents job, and doing it very well.

A Marine approached him, and asked if he was all right. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you,' was the answer. Then another Marine came up, 'Everything OK Mr. Webb? I hope we did not step on any one's toes by taking care of the situation.' He saw that it was Major Harris, and that she was smiling, and had a twinkle in her eye. No doubt put there by the adrenaline of the operation, and maybe some personal gratification at the job the Marines were able to do. He would allow her that. And the smile and twinkle looked very good on her.

'The Marines did a good job, Major Harris. My compliments to the sharp shooter who took care of this man.' Webb said as he nodded toward the dead man who had held him a gun point. 'Nice shooting.'

'You're welcome. I decided to shoot a little off center, so it wouldn't muss up your suit.' She said as she surveyed her work. Webb raised his eyebrows at that and looked back up at her. 'That's twice now' referring to how many times in this one evening she had saved his life. Webb did not know what to say. He was not used to being indebted to someone for saving his life. He knew he should thank her. He took a breath and made an attempt 'Ah...Thank you seems a little....'

'Your welcome.' She smiled back. She then looked at the Marine, who had been standing there watching the exchange. In the blink of an eye she went from smiling woman, to Marine Major, and started issuing orders to PFC Petty. When he jumped and left to follow those orders, Major Harris glanced once more at Webb, and the smile reappeared for a moment. 'If you'll excuse me Mr. Webb, I still have some work to do.' She turned to leave when another Agent walked up to her and Webb.

'Just a minute Major' It was Agent Galliger. Webb groaned inside. What did he want? Galliger was an untrusting, pompous, brute who did everything to make himself look good, and others look bad. 'You are Major Harris?'

'Yes' Harris answered.

Galliger continued, 'You are in charge of security, and it was your team who did all the shooting?' Webb was thinking, 'Here it comes, blame the Major and her team for the mess, and make sure the CIA and their security team is free of any blame.

'There will be an investigation of what went on here tonight, and it will have to be done quickly. The director leaves tomorrow, but there are several agents, including myself, who will be staying on a couple more days to wrap things up. We will be checking into what happened here, and where you and your Marine team could have done a better job at security and avoided this entire incident.' He waited for the Major's response, hoping to see her squirm, or get defensive of herself and her team. That would play perfectly into his plan of discrediting the security team Major Harris was in charge of.

'You will have my report first thing in the morning, Sir.' Major Harris smoothly replied.

'Oh, and I will see you first thing in the morning Major' Galliger responded. 'We will need to interview you and your team, separately, to get the full story.

'My team and I are at your service, Sir.' She nodded at Webb with a quiet 'Sir', and moved away from the two agents. They both watched her go, thinking their own thoughts. One was ready to place all responsibility for the evening's events squarely on those slim shoulders. The other, was just as determined to see one shoulder decorated on the front for a job well done. The agents looked briefly at each other, sizing each other up, then separated. The next morning will be interesting.

The next morning

US Embassy

Moscow

0830 hours Moscow time

Several agents had taken over a conference room in the Embassy to work on the investigation of the events of the previous evening. Most of them wanted to get the interview done quickly and finish up the conference with the Russians, and get home. This investigation was just a side trip to their work, that none of them wanted, but knew it had to be done. Through the night, some of the agents had discovered that the intruders had been planted by a faction in the political arena in Russia a long time ago, and had just been waiting a chance to get the most attention for their cause. Having the American Intelligence community all right at the Embassy, and so many of the Russian Intelligence group there too, seem too good to be true, and they made their move. It was not the fault of Major Harris and her team of Marine's that happened to be on duty last night. It actually was a break down in the whole security office of the Embassy, which fell under the CIA and other related departments. There was not much point in interviewing all Marines, but Galliger still insisted that the Major be questioned.

Major Harris had handed in a complete and thorough report of the situation last night, and all the agents had read it and were satisfied with its conclusions. The bad guys made a move, the Marines came in and saved the situation, with no injuries to agents, or the guests. The Marines even kept some of the bad guys alive for further interrogation. End of story. But Galliger was not satisfied. He still wanted to question her, so here they all were, waiting the arrival of the Major.

Clayton Webb was in the room too. He had gotten some sleep last night, but not enough, and was on his third, or was it his fourth cup of coffee? He was re-reading the Major's report and wondered if she had gotten any sleep. The report was concise, factual, and of course made mention of him, and how he had been caught twice, and saved twice by Major Harris. Although she had not named herself as rescuer, she only referred to the team doing their job in protecting an American in danger. Saved face for him, and he appreciated that. He smiled at the memory of her face as she reminded him that it was indeed 'twice' she had come to his rescue. He was startled out of his reprieve as the Major entered the conference room.

She was wearing her Marine uniform, a skirt and blouse today. Not dress blues, but not the camouflage of last night's duty. She understood this was an important meeting, and wanted to make a good impression. Webb thought she looked a little nervous, but was putting on a brave face. He also thought she had nice legs. She was shown a seat at one end of the table, and offered coffee, which she declined. She knew this was not going to be pleasant chit-chat over coffee between friends. The agents all took their seats around the table, and Galliger began.

'Thank you for coming this morning, Major' He said. Like she had a choice thought Webb. 'You may not have heard that our investigation has discovered the intruders last night had been in place for some time, and were just waiting for the right moment to strike. Your Marine team is not being held accountable for their breaking in, but we would still like to go over what happened and how you made the decisions you did in countering the situation.' Webb looked down at the Major's report in front of him on the table. I thought she did that in the report Galliger. He thought. And her counter measures were right on, and appropriate, and took care of the situation better than any of us did.

Webb looked back up as Galliger continued his questions, and the Major answered them. She is keeping her cool under the pressure, that was obvious. Webb thought.

He listened carefully as she answered Galliger's questions. She answered the questions clearly and concisely, accepted responsibility for her team's actions, kept her voice calm, even when Galliger's voice grew louder, and more accusing by the minute.

Webb also began looking at her, really looking at her. She was attractive, with big brown eyes that had interested him from the first. He saw that her hair was brown, with some red highlights. It was loosely braided, and tucked up at the base of her neck off her collar as uniform regulations demanded. He wondered how long it really was, and did she always wear it up, or only on duty. It looked thick and soft too, he rubbed his finger tips together at the thought of touching it. She was slight in build, petite, with small hands. But, she must be strong, if her report was to be believed. 'Injured American was carried approximately 30 yards to safety by Marine officer, as PFC Martin shot cover fire.' That would have been him, being carried by her from the line of fire at the back of the building. Webb hoped none of the other agents knew he was that American. He would never live it down.

Galliger was raising his voice just a bit, trying to make a point, and the Major was not effected. Good for you Major Webb thought. Yes, she was pretty, and intelligent, and not thrown off by brutes like Galliger. It might be interesting to get to know more about this Major Harris, Webb thought. He inwardly shook his head at the idea. What are you thinking Webb? Pay attention. And he sat up a little straighter in his seat and rejoined the conversation taking place.

'Mr. Galliger' the Major was saying, 'I was following standard procedure for situations where hostages are concerned, or Embassy security has been breached. I followed the training, and plans in place for handling these circumstances. To have tried to do anything else would have been counter productive for me and my team, since we have worked on these scenarios, and know what should be done.'

Galliger kept trying, 'Yes, but Major, if you had tried to...' But here he was interrupted by another agent. 'Mr. Galliger, I think we all know how well Major Harris and her team did in handling the situation.' Webb began. 'Hind sight is 20/20, and there may have been some other ways of defusing the situation, but the Marines did a fine job of handling it, with out any losses to Embassy personnel, or Embassy guests. I for one will be putting in a statement commending the performance of the Marines, and the Major, and hope it will, at the very least will be filed in their performance records, and possibly award them with citations. I do not think we need to take up any more of the Major's time. We have her report, and her statement, and that is all we need. Thank you for your time, Major Harris.' Webb said, looking at the Major with a nod.

Well, thank you Mr. Webb. Thought Major Harris, as she returned his look from across the table. Galligar was a little taken aback by all this. Webb was senior to him, but had not done any thing to slow the investigation to this point, and Galligar was a little put out by Webb stepping in, just as he thought he was getting to the Major. Before Galligar could say any more, the other agents had taken their cue from Webb, and were standing up, collecting their papers, and getting ready to move from the conference room, to the next set of meetings with the Russians.

In the confusion of people exiting the room, Major Harris was delayed in trying to get to the door to leave. In this time, Mr. Webb came forward. 'And I would like to personally thank you Major, for saving my life.' He said with a smile. 'Twice' she said, smiling back at him. 'Twice' he answered with a quiet chuckle. 'Major, I meant what I said. I will put in for citations for you and your team for your work last night. And I appreciate your keeping me anonymous in your report.' He added quietly.

She knew exactly what he was referring to. She had purposefully left his name out, from courtesy. No one really needed to know which American was in so much trouble in one night, did they? 'Glad I could help Mr. Webb.' She said with a knowing smile.

Clayton could not help himself. He enjoyed talking to her, and wanted another chance to spend some time in her company. 'Would you allow me to show you my appreciation to you by asking you out for an evening? The Ambassador is holding a formal reception this evening to officially close our negotiations with the Russians. Would you like to join me as my guest?' He asked. He wondered if it had been a good idea, but there was not going back now.

She was surprised by his request, and thought at first no, it was probably a bad idea. But she was intrigued by him, and thought, why not? 'Thank you Mr. Webb, I would like that very much.'

'Good. Very good. And its Clay.' It seemed silly, but he held out his hand to her, as if they had just been introduced. She took it, and smiled back at him. Her whole face lit up when she smiled he thought. 'Amelia. But my friends call me Amy.'

'Where may I pick you up Amy.' Webb asked.

'Oh...could we meet in the front hall of the Embassy? I live here on the grounds in military housing, and ...' she struggled to try and explain to him in a nice way that having a man pick her up at her efficiency apartment would start the rumor mill turning and churning for weeks. And an officer, in charge of several men, didn't need that. 'Ah...' he interrupted her, seeing her discomfort. He wasn't sure what she was concerned about, but he did not wish to make things difficult for her. 'Sure. I will meet you at say...7:00 in the front hall. It is formal you know.' He added. What if she didn't have a gown? Did Marine Majors have gowns on base like this? He panicked a moment.

'Oh yes, I know it is formal. I'll be ready at 7:00. And thank you again, Clay, for your invitation, and your help.' She added, indicating the room where the interrogation had gone on. It was now empty, and they were alone. They both suddenly felt uncomfortable.

'Until tonight then.' He said, and opened the door for her, and let her out.

That evening

Front Hall of the US Embassy

Moscow

18:55 hours Moscow time

Clayton Webb was uncomfortable waiting in the crowded hall for Major Harris. The thought had occurred to him that maybe she would show up in her formal dress uniform. And while that would be appropriate for the occasion, he sincerely hoped it would not be the case. He hoped he would see Amelia Harris tonight, not the Major. He also was nervous about spending the evening with her. When was the last time you were nervous to take out a woman? he chided himself. Calm down Clay. It will be a pleasant evening in the company of a lovely, intelligent woman, and that would be all, he convinced himself. That is of course if she ever showed up.

He scanned the crowded hall one more time, stopping to watch the door when he had not located her. She was not technically late, yet. Webb took a deep breath and kept scanning the room. He did not see her approach him from behind, or hear her say his name over all the voices in the hall. She finally had to lightly touch his shoulder to make him turn around. And when he did turn around, he did not recognize her at first.

Standing before him in a gown the deep red brown color of sherry stood a beautiful woman. The gown showed one bare creamy shoulder, and fell in a graceful, clinging drape down her body. It was not tight, but clung to her shape in all the right places. He looked at her face, and quickly moved down and up again in a glance, taking it all in. When he came back to her face, he saw the smile, a smile a woman wears when she knows she has caught her man's eye, and he approves, without saying a word. Webb returned the smile, and tried to think of something to say. She beat him to it.

'Thank you for the compliment Clay.' She said in a self assured tone. 'Shall we go in?' she asked. 'It would be my pleasure, Amy.' Clay held out his arm, and she slipped hers through it, and they walked up, in to the reception hall.

The reception was the usual round of small talk, dinner, and short, complimentary speeches that never really mean any thing. Clay knew very few people there, just some of the other agents, and their Russian counter parts. Amy knew more people, since she worked at the Embassy, but they did not recognize her since she was out of her customary Marine uniform. She did not seem disposed to remind too many of who she was anyway.

When Clay asked why she did not introduce herself, she replied, 'If I did, than they would have to say Hello to me in the halls, and get to know me, and I would get to know them, and that can get in the way of my job to a certain extent, if you know what I mean. It is hard to explain. Besides, I feel a little naked around some of these people with out my uniform and side arm.' Webb knew exactly what she meant, and then, for a split second the image of her naked popped in his head, and it steered him to change the subject quickly.

So, they talked mostly to each other. Webb learned that Amy was from Wisconsin, one of the few states he had never visited. He enjoyed the stories she shared of growing up with one older brother, on a small farm where they boarded horses. She loved riding, and they were both glad to have found a subject and activity they both enjoyed. He told her about his growing up in Virginia, but stayed away from his life now.

After dinner and the speeches, there was music, and they danced a few waltzes. Amy was impressed at how good a dancer Clay was and complimented him. He returned the compliment, and was enjoying dancing with her. She was the perfect size for him, just a little shorter than he, and she fit very well in his arms. She was light on her feet, and they sailed around the dance floor with ease. When the musical group took a break, he asked if she would like to walk outside to the balcony for some air. He knew he could use some cool air about now. She agreed, and they walked over to the French doors, leading outside.

The night was clear and cool, with stars lighting the sky. The moon had not risen yet, and the lights were low on the balcony. Clay asked if it was too cool for Amy, and was ready to give her his coat, but she said she was fine, and they both just stood quietly, looking at the sky.

'So why the CIA, Clay? If you don't mind my asking.' She said.

Clay weighted the thought of telling her the truth, and telling her the same lie he gave all women who asked that question, sort of a half truth, or a joke to change the subject. Tonight, under the stars, only the truth would do. 'Both my parents worked for the agency. I was just following in the family business.'

'Ah...' she said. 'A family of spooks. You didn't have a chance.'

'No.' he replied. 'My parents would have supported me in whatever I choose to do as a career. I just wanted to serve my country the same way they did. It seemed right, and I was good at it. Why the Marines for you?'

'I wanted to serve too.' Came the answer. 'It seems a little cliché doesn't it? But it was important to me. I went to school to learn law enforcement, and was afraid all I would end up doing was paper work. Do you know how much paper work a police officer does? I wanted more than that. And I enjoy the chance to travel and meet people like yourself.' She said, looking back at him. 'I wanted to do something important. Pretty simplistic um?'

'Not at all.' He said. 'Because the answer is pretty much the same for me.' He was finding more and more things to like about this woman as the evening went on. If only things could stay this simple. But the truth was that he worked in Washington, and she worked wherever the Marine Corps sent her. He found he would like to spend more time with her, but life didn't work that way. At least not his life. Still, there was tomorrow night.

'Amy.' He turned to her and took her hand in his. 'Would you like to attend the ballet tomorrow night with me? It is our last night in Moscow, and the meetings should be wrapped up, and I would like to see you again before I leave.'

Amy had very much enjoyed this evening with Clay. He was a perfect gentleman, and had treated her better than any one she had ever gone out with, all in one night. She sensed that he had enjoyed it too, and was as aware as she was that nothing could come between them, considering their different locations, and lives. Still, what would one more night hurt? 'Yes, that sounds wonderful Clay.'

He smiled at the thought of one more evening in her company. What was it about this woman? He had smiled more with her in the last 24 hours than he had for any reason in the past month. And, he had opened up to her, and told her things he had not shared with anyone in years, and certainly not with women he had just met. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he may not see her ever again, and it was safe telling these things to a stranger. Just someone you share a few hours with in a lifetime. If only...no Clay, just enjoy the time you have, he told himself.

'We can meet at the front hall again, early, and have dinner before hand.' He suggested.

'Sounds perfect' she said.

He invited her for another dance, and by that time it was getting late. Clayton still had early meetings to finish in the morning, and Amy was on duty, so they said good night in the front hall until tomorrow evening.

The next evening

Front hallway of US Embassy

Moscow Russia

1800 hours Moscow time

Amy entered the front hall and it was a very different scene from last night. The hall was empty, expect for the staff person at the reception desk; a young American woman, who was at the moment on the phone. Amy saw that Clay was not there yet, and she decided to stand quietly to the side to wait for him. She hoped she was dressed appropriately for the evening. What did one wear to the ballet anyway? While she was thinking, the desk clerk had finished her conversation, and was looking at Amy.

'Are you Major Harris?' the clerk asked.

'Yes, I am' Amy answered.

'I have a message for you, Major' The clerk picked up an envelope, and handed it to Amy when she came to the desk.

In a neat masculine hand, her name was written on the front of the envelope. She opened it up, and found two tickets to the Moscow National Ballet for that evening, and a note.

_Amy,_

_I have been called back to Washington early. I am sorry I cannot join you this evening._

_I enjoyed our time together last night and maybe we can become re-aquatinted the next time I am in Moscow. _

_Please attend the ballet with a friend, with my compliments._

_Clayton Webb_

Amy folded the note and put it in her coat pocket. She looked at the tickets. Suddenly, she did not feel like attending the ballet tonight. She looked at the clerk. Amy had seen her before. A young beauty, excited about her first overseas posting.

'Joan.' The clerk looked up at Amy. 'When is your shift over?' she asked.

Joan consulted the small clock on the desk. 'In half an hour. Why?'

'Any plans for the evening?' Amy asked.

'No.' was the answer.

'Well, now you do. Find someone to join you, and attend the ballet, with my compliments.' Amy said as she placed the tickets on the desk.

The clerk's eyes lit up, and a large smile crossed her face. 'Thank you, Major. I used to dance, and would love to see the Moscow National. I have heard it is wonderful, and some of the hardest tickets to get in town. How did you get tickets?'

'I have connections. Enjoy.' Amy said as she left the building.

As Amy crossed the quad, toward her small living quarters, she thought about the charming Mr. Webb. Would she see him ever again? Did it really matter? It was something she had no control over, and she would just accept whatever came. Somehow, that seemed to fit Mr. Webb. Just accept whatever came.

End of Chapter 1.


	2. Chap 2 Second Chances

Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date March 2004  
  
This is the second chapter of what will be many chapters in a series titled: Webb Odyssey. Watch for more stories under this title or my name. Clayton Webb has become a favorite character with me, and the story really involves him. Enjoy.  
  
This Chapter is rated PG for some danger, and adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey II  
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
Parts 1, 2, & 3  
  
Summary: Clayton meets a woman from his past, and has a second chance at love. But, will his job get in the way?   
  
See Chapter 1, 'Twice' for the beginning of the story.  
  
This story takes place after Season 8 where Webb declares his love for Sarah Mackenzie. We all know this will fail, and even Webb knows it, and of course it does. The story picks up where Webb and Sarah have ended their relationship, and Harm and Sarah have finally decided to accept their feelings for each other, and try and work something out.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Second Chances  
  
Part 1  
  
1147 hours  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
Colonel Sarah MacKenzie was sitting in her office looking over a case file when Tiner quietly knocked on her door. 'Ma'am, there is a Major Harris out here asking to see you.'  
  
Mac kept looking at the file, and started searching through her memory for the name of Major Harris. Was it someone connected to this case? Or one of the others on her desk? Major Harris...Major Harris, common enough name, could be anyone. 'Show him in Tiner.' Mac said without looking up. Who ever they were, Mac would find out soon enough.  
  
Mac heard, rather than saw the person enter her office. Then she heard a vaguely familiar voice say, 'Major Harris, reporting as ordered Colonel.' With a special emphasis on the word Colonel.   
  
Mac looked up to see the major standing at attention. 'Amy!' Mac shouted and came around her desk to give her old friend a hug. Amy kept up the stiff attention until she got the hug, then she hugged Mac right back.  
  
'Amy, it is so good to see you. How long has it been? What are you doing in Washington?' Mac began asking as soon as she let go of her friend.   
  
'Which should I answer first Colonel? ' Amy asked. 'Geez, a Colonel! Do I have to salute you now and follow direct orders and everything?' Amy asked with a laugh.   
  
'Yes, Major. And you can start by sitting down and telling me how you have been, and what you have been up to.' Mac said with fake severity.  
  
'I have a better idea, begging the Colonel's patron.' Amy said. 'May I invite the Colonel to join me for lunch?'  
  
'Excellent suggestion, Major. I am due for a break.' Answered Mac. She grabbed her cap, and the two women set off toward the elevators.  
  
They went down to the cafeteria, picked up a couple of sandwiches, and headed outside to a bench to enjoy the spring weather, and catch up. Mac and Amy had been roommates while stationed on Okinawa. They had kept in touch, and were able to see each other often while Mac was in law school, but then had lost touch when Amy went to serve in different Embassies in Europe. The last couple of years they had lost touch all together.   
  
'Where have you been, you seemed to drop completely off all radar scopes a couple years ago?' Mac asked.  
  
Amy finished her mouthful of food, and her face took on a serious look. 'I asked to be stationed in Wisconsin for the past two years, Mac. My mother was diagnosed with cancer, and I wanted be closer to home. We lost her six months ago, and I stayed around to look after my Dad, and help him decide what to do with the farm. Things have settled down, and Dad told me to leave and get on with my life, and now I am here.   
  
'I'm so sorry, Amy. That must have been very hard for you and your Dad.' Mac offered sympathetically. She felt bad for her friend to have had to go through something like loosing a beloved parent.  
  
'Thanks. But I am here now in a great position at the Pentagon, working for the office of Homeland Security. I was just getting settled in, and knew that you were here, and thought I would get in contact again. I know no one in the DC area besides you.'  
  
'I'm so glad you did come by. I can introduce you around. It will be great to have you in Washington.' Mac said  
  
'In fact' Mac continued, 'a few of us are going out to the local watering hole tonight to celebrate the close of a particularly tough case. Why don't you join us? It will be the perfect time to meet everyone here at JAG.'  
  
Amy looked sideways at Mac. Knowing Mac's history with alcohol, Amy wasn't sure she wanted to join her friend drinking. 'Mac...' she said.  
  
Mac smiled at her, knowing right away what Amy was worried about. Amy had helped Mac through some tough times during her initial recovery. 'Don't worry. I only drink tonic and lime, I assure you.'  
  
'Glad to hear it.' Amy smiled back. 'And thanks for the invitation. I would love to join you.'   
  
JAG HEADQUARTERS  
  
FALLS CHURCH, VA  
  
1743 local time  
  
Sarah was finishing up some work in her office when Harm entered her office.  
  
'Have you talked to Clayton lately?' he asked.  
  
'No, Clayton really doesn't call me anymore, Harm. Not since we broke up.'  
  
'I haven't talked to him for a while either. Maybe I will stop by his office and invite him to join us for a drink after work.' Harm suggested with a smile.  
  
'Do you really think he will accept? We are probably not his two favorite people right now, Harm.' Sarah reminded him.  
  
'Sarah, I consider Clayton to be a friend of mine, and I hate to lose his friendship over our relationship. It can't hurt to try.'  
  
Sarah thought for a moment. 'Clayton and I did say we would still be friends. I guess we can at least invite him to join us. And it's not like it will be just the three of us. Bud will be there, and the Admiral, so it might not be too awkward.'  
  
'I will go talk to him, and meet you at McCully's.' and with that, he went to his office, grabbed his cover, and headed for the elevator.  
  
CIA HEADQUARTERS  
  
LANGLEY, VA  
  
1815 hours  
  
Clayton Webb was in his office, packing up his briefcase and preparing to go home when heard a knock on the door. He looked up and saw his ex-best friend. Clayton mentally sighed, and said 'Harmon Rabb, Jr. To what do I owe this pleasure? What highly classified information have come looking for at this hour on a Friday afternoon?'  
  
With an innocent look on his face, Harm entered the office. 'I'm not here to ask for any information. This is purely a social call.'  
  
'I'm not in the mood to socialize with you right now, so if you will excuse me.' Clayton got up to leave, but Harm blocked his way to the door.  
  
'Clayton. I haven't talked to you for a while, and I wanted to see you.'   
  
'You've seen me, I'm fine. Good-bye.' And Clayton tried to step away from him, but Harm wouldn't let him. I don't want to force the issue, thought Harm, but I want to talk to him, if he will only listen. 'Clayton, please. I thought we were friends.'  
  
'We were, until you stole away the woman I love.' Clayton told him rather harshly.  
  
'Clayton, please, don't take it that way. Sarah never meant..., we never meant to hurt you.'  
  
Both men paused, and looked at each other. Then Clayton set down his briefcase, turned around and said, 'I know. I knew all along where her heart was. I just hoped...' he stopped there. He had hoped what? That he could a love enough for both of them? That he could make her forget Harm? He had wanted a chance to try and make Sarah happy, knew that he could. But he had also known from the beginning that she was in love with Harm, and always would be.  
  
Harm just listened, hurting for his friend. He hated to have been the cause of it. Maybe they could not be friends anymore, but Harm had wanted to try.  
  
Clayton turned, and faced Harm. 'Did she send you over to check up on me?'   
  
'No' Harm answered, 'but she knows I am here and talking with you. She feels bad about how things turned out, we both do.'  
  
'Don't worry about me.' Clayton said. 'I'm fine. I want Sarah to be happy.' He really did, he realized after having said it out loud. He would let it go here, now.  
  
'Come out and have a drink with us. We are meeting at McCully's' Harm suggested.  
  
'Oh, no. Thanks, but I don't think I am ready for that yet. I am not interested in being the 3rd wheel.' Clayton declined.  
  
'You wouldn't be. Several people from the office will be there. We finally finished up that big Rawlings case, and it is Bud and Harriet's anniversary. It is just some friends getting together for some drinks, and maybe some dinner. Come and join us. Did you have other plans?' Harm asked.  
  
'No, I had no plans.' A group of people might not be so bad, thought Clayton. And he was tired of going home to his empty townhouse each night. Another thought came to him. "Do the people at JAG know about you and Sarah yet?' Clayton asked because he knew that for two officers to fraternize in the same chain of command was not at all acceptable. Suddenly he did not envy Harm and Sarah. One of them would have to leave JAG, and he knew that would be hard for both of them. Why does love have to be so hard, he thought.  
  
'No one at JAG knows yet. Sarah and I are taking it slow, and will have to come clean soon. We just want to find out our options, and take everything very carefully. Will you keep our secret for now?' Harm asked. He knew that Clayton could make trouble for the two of them, if he wanted. But Harm also knew that Clayton was one to get revenge. Or was he?  
  
'I won't say anything. And thank you for the invitation. I think I will join you.'  
  
'Great.' Harm said with a smile and the two men started to walk out of the office. At the door, Clayton stopped and looked at Harm.  
  
'There's just one more thing, Harm.'  
  
'What's that?'  
  
Clayton was suddenly very serious. 'If you hurt Sarah, I will be right there to pick up the pieces. And I will probably kill you.' It was said with no hint of a smile. Harm understood that Clayton was completely serious. Harm answered with the same seriousness. 'I understand Clayton. I would have done the same if you had hurt her.'  
  
Once that was said. The two friends left the office to make their way to the pub.   
  
Harm could be heard saying to Clayton as they made their way down the hall, 'There's someone out there for you Clayton. Who knows, maybe you will find the love of you life tonight.' He said it to try and lighten things up. Clayton only groaned.   
  
McCully's Tavern  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
1845 hours  
  
Amy met Mac at the tavern as they had arranged that afternoon. They were sharing a table, still catching up, and waiting for the others from JAG to arrive. Bud and Harriet were there, and had been introduced to Amy, and they had gone back to the bar, to let the two friends have some time alone.  
  
Mac and Amy were talking together when Rabb and a friend entered the tavern. Mac had described Rabb to Amy, and she noticed him first as he entered. He wasn't hard to miss.  
  
'Ah, here comes your commander, and who's that with him? Looks like a spook.' Amy said.  
  
'You've been working in security too long. Everyone looks like a spook to you.' Mac said as she started to turn around to see Rabb. He saw the two sitting at a table, nodded to them, and started making his way through the happy hour crowd to their table.   
  
As this was going on, Amy said 'I would be a poor security officer if I could not tell a spook when I saw one. Besides, this one practically has CIA tattooed on his.. forehead..' As she said this, the person behind Rabb could be seen through the crowd, and Amy thought she recognized him. 'Wait a minute....' She said, and then fell quiet.  
  
The two men had made it to the table, and Mac began the introductions. 'Harm, I want you to meet one of my good friends. Amy Harris, Harom Rabb, Jr.'  
  
Harm held out his hand and Amy took it, turning all her attention to him for the moment. 'Nice to meet you commander.'   
  
'Likewise.' Harm said.  
  
'And this is...' Mac started, but was interrupted.  
  
'Major Harris, it is nice to see you again.' Webb said, taking Amy's hand, shaking it, and holding on to it, just a little longer than necessary.   
  
Amy was staring at him, a small smile on her face. 'Nice to see you again too, Mr. Webb.'  
  
Harm was watching the exchange carefully, and became very curious. 'You two know each other?' he asked. Mac was just as interested, as the four of them sat down at the table, looking at Amy carefully.  
  
Webb answered for both of them. 'We met in Moscow. The Major was stationed at the Embassy, and helped me with an unfortunate incident there. That was almost two years ago now, right Major?'  
  
Amy just smiled at Webb as they both thought of the first time they met, and what happened afterward.  
  
Harm's eyebrows went up at that explanation, and his curiosity grew. 'An unfortunate incident...?' Harm prompted, hoping for more information.  
  
'It's classified, Commander.' Was Amy's reply, and she and Webb shared a private smile. The story of the intrusion at the Embassy two years ago had been all over the press, but none of the names of the Marine squad, their commanding officer, Major Harris, or any of the agents involved had been disclosed. So, the story itself was not classified, but Amy and Webb's involvement in it was.  
  
'Classified, huh.' The Commander grunted. 'She does know Webb I guess.' Shifting his glance from Amy to Webb, who were still looking at each other, and then back to Mac, to share his own 'knowing ' look, as if to say 'We will never get the full story out of these two.'  
  
Harm and Mac let it lie, and the conversation turned to other things.   
  
'What brings you to Washington Major?' Webb asked.   
  
'I am beginning a new assignment at the Pentagon in the office of Homeland Security.' Amy answered.  
  
Webb's interest was spiked even more at this news. So, she was going to be living and working right here in the DC area. 'Congratulations, Major.' He said.  
  
After a while, Amy excused herself to go the ladies room, and Mac followed her. While they were at the sinks, Mac tried to get some more information.  
  
'There is nothing to tell, really Sarah.' Amy answered. 'We met while at the Embassy in Moscow a couple of years ago, and we had dinner together. Nothing special, and nothing more happened. No big deal.' Amy tried to down play her knowing Clayton Webb. What she told Mac was the truth, just not the full story. She and Webb did have dinner together at an Embassy reception, but she left out the part about dancing, and the closeness she was beginning to feel for Clayton at the time, as hopeless as it was. She was flattered that he remembered her, and he seemed to be watching her a lot tonight. She wondered what would happen now, if anything, since she was living in Virginia, and working at the Pentagon. It could be very interesting she thought to herself.  
  
Mac was not completely satisfied by Amy's answer, but let it be for now. If Amy and Clayton got together, that was their business. She had felt sort of sorry for Clay since they had broken things off. They had decided being friends was better for them, since she was in love with Harm, and Clay knew that, even though the two of them had never discussed it. She hoped Clay found someone to share his life. He seemed ready to settle down a little bit, and seemed so lonely.  
  
Both women exited the restroom at the same time, and standing there, with his cell phone to his ear stood Clayton Webb. He seemed deep in conversation with someone. He caught Amy's eye, and sort of nodded to her, as if he wanted to talk to her. Right next to him was the jukebox, and Amy told Sarah she would be right with her, after she ordered up some songs. Sarah knew Amy's love of music, and accepted the excuse with out any comment. Sarah made her way back to their table and rejoined Harm, and the Admiral who had just arrived.  
  
Amy stood looking over the selections, and waiting for Webb to finish on the phone. He stood at one end of the jukebox, facing the other direction, and continued to talk into the phone, but he began to talk to Amy.  
  
'You sure fell of the radar, Major.' He said.   
  
Amy was not sure if he was talking to her, or still to the person on the phone, and looked up at him. He was looking right at her, waiting for an answer.  
  
'That's the second person to say that to me today.' She said.   
  
'I looked for you the next time I was in Moscow, but you had been reassigned.' He was talking to her, but was not looking at her, and was saying his words into the phone.  
  
'Are you really on the phone, or just pretending, so no one notices we are talking together?' Amy asked, as she focused her attention on the jukebox.   
  
'Need to know, Major.' Clayton answered. 'I am not ready to have my private life the subject of conversation around the coffee pot at JAG. If you know what I mean.' He said, looking directly at the group of officers from JAG.   
  
Amy glanced around and looked at the group too for a moment, then went back to the Jukebox and put in coins to make a selection.  
  
'You still haven't answered my question, Amy.' Clayton said.  
  
'My mother was dying of cancer. I asked for a posting closer to home and some hardship leave to be there with my family. But that is over now, and I am stationed here.' She answered.  
  
Clayton felt terrible to have pushed the issue. 'I am sorry Amy.' He said, understanding now where she had been.  
  
'I think I still owe you an evening at the Ballet.' He said to change the subject.  
  
'Yes, you do.' She said.  
  
'It so happens the Russian National Ballet Company is performing in town next weekend. Care to join me?'   
  
'I'd like that.' She said.  
  
'How about dinner tomorrow night to work out the details, and get reacquainted?' He asked.   
  
Amy was a little surprised he was asking to see her so fast. But she was happy that he did wish to get reacquainted. She wanted to begin the acquaintance too. 'Sure. Do you want my phone number or address?' she asked.  
  
'I can get that myself.' He answered with a wink. 'I'll pick you up at seven.'   
  
'See you then.' She said as she moved back to their table.  
  
The rest of the evening the JAG officers talked about the case they had just wrapped finished.   
  
Clayton added to the conversation when required, but spent most of the evening just enjoying the talk going on around him as he watched Major Amelia Harris.  
  
Life is strange he thought. He had hoped to see the Major again when he next went to Moscow, but when he found out she was reassigned, he did not think too much about it. Just another one who got away. But here she is, as pretty and witty as he remembered, living and working in DC. The possibilities were endless. He was looking forward to getting to know Major Amelia Harris much better.  
  
As the party was breaking up, Harm and Sarah left the pub, and made their way to their cars in the parking lot.   
  
'Amy seems very nice.' Harm said.  
  
'Yes, she is a good friend. I am glad she will be here in DC.' Sarah replied.  
  
'I don't think you are the only one who is glad she is here in DC now.' Harm said with a knowing smile. 'Did you notice Webb? He couldn't take his eyes off her all evening.'  
  
'I don't think it was quite that bad, Harm. They had met before you know.' Sarah said, trying to down play what she had seen between Amy and Clayton also.  
  
'Jealous?' asked Harm.  
  
'What have I to be jealous about? If they get together, that would be great. I would like to see Clayton with someone. He's vulnerable right now, and it would be nice if he met someone.'  
  
'Vulnerable? Webb?' Harm asked surprised.  
  
'Well,' Sarah paused. 'Maybe vulnerable is too strong. Maybe I think Clayton is just ready. He has a lot of love to give to someone, and he is ready to settle down and have a loving relationship.' She said.  
  
Harm snickered. 'Oh, that's good from the woman who broke his heart.'  
  
'Harm, please. I feel bad enough about what happened between Clayton and I, don't rub it in.' Sarah felt hurt at his teasing her. Harm recognized it, and decided to back off. 'Well, if Clayton is looking for love, it will have to be a pretty special someone.' He said.  
  
'Yes, it will.' Sarah agreed. 'Clayton needs someone who is understanding, and can put up with his job, and taking second place to it in Clayton's life. You know, the CIA is not just his job, or career, it is more to Clay. It is protecting this country. Protecting something he loves, very much.'  
  
'Interesting you should say that Sarah.' Harm said. 'Clayton's mother said the same thing about him when I called her looking for information on you and Clayton while you were in South America. "Clayton is very protective if people he loves." She said. I suppose that goes for things too, like America. Does your friend Amy have that kind of understanding?' Harm asked.  
  
Sarah thought a minute, thinking. 'Amy loves whole heartedly, and easily. She is also very patient, and forgiving. She might be very good for Clayton.' She said, with a little smile. This all might be very interesting she thought.  
  
The next evening  
  
Amy's Apartment, Georgetown  
  
1850 local time  
  
Clayton parked his car, and walked up to the security door of Amy's apartment building. He had no trouble finding her address and phone number. Sometimes it was good being a CIA agent. He knew he was early, but he had been ready in record time, and gotten to her apartment sooner than he expected, and what was a few minutes early...really? A little voice in his head told him he was anxious to see her again and rushing things, but Clayton had chosen to ignore that voice all afternoon.  
  
He buzzed the intercom to her apartment to ask to be let in the building. Her voice came over the little box, and Clayton could tell she was surprised he was there already, buy not angry.   
  
'You are a little early Mr. Webb.' She said.  
  
'I know,' he answered, 'I hope not too early?'  
  
'No, come on up.' And with that, the door buzzed, and he was able to open it, and enter the building. He took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and walked, maybe a bit too quickly, down the hall to her door. He knocked, and there she was, a smile on her face, and a hair brush in her hand.  
  
'Come in Clayton,' she said as she opened the door wider to allow him inside. 'I am just about ready. Please make yourself at home. I set out some hors d'verves on the counter, and some thing to drink, please help yourself. I will be back in a minute.' She gestured toward the small kitchen, then left the room going down a small hallway to finish getting ready.  
  
Clayton surveyed the apartment. Small, but comfortable. All traces of moving boxes were cleared away. A galley kitchen, with a lunch bar separating it from the sitting room. On this counter was some bread and cheese and some soft drinks, and sherry. Clayton poured two sherries, and helped himself to some bread and cheese. It was simple, but very good fresh bread and excellent cheese. He could taste roasted garlic spread on the bread. Delicious. There must be a bistro in the neighborhood that does take out he thought.   
  
As he munched, he walked around the small sitting area. Comfortable, neutral furniture, some personnel touches, and a few photos on the wall. One painting, hand done by a fair artist, of some woods and a stream. There was a bay window looking out on the street, with a street lamp shining in the room. There were also windows that met to form the corner. In this was a stand of some kind, with a hoop attached to the top. Hanging over the stand, in the middle was some kind of blanket. 'What's this?' Clayton called to her in the next room.   
  
'What's what?' came the answer as Amy joined Clayton in the front room. 'It's a bird bath.' She added sarcastically as she saw what he was looking at. 'What does it look like?'  
  
'If I knew what it looked like, I would not have needed to ask the question.' Clayton answered good naturedly, glancing back at her.  
  
Amy came over to where he was standing and finally answered his question. 'This is a quilt stand.' She said, indicating the stand with the hoop. 'And this is the quilt I am working on.' Saying this, she picked up the quilt, and opened it up for him to see more of the design. It was white, with different shades of blue fabric that made different designs all over the top. Parts of the quilt had tiny stitches that outlined the pattern of the star, and other areas were not stitched yet.   
  
'You made this?' he asked in amazement. She nodded yes and let him continue to look at her work. 'You sewed all these pieces together, then stitched all these tiny....' He looked up at her to see a proud smile on her face and that she was still nodding.  
  
'Its beautiful.' He said, impressed. 'Wouldn't sewing these stitches by machine be easier and faster?' he asked.   
  
'Yes.' Amy answered. 'But doing it by hand is something I enjoy, and it makes the quilt more special.' She began folding it back up, and laying it on the stand as before. 'I am making this one for my niece in Wisconsin. I have a couple here that I did, but mostly now I make them to give to people. Just how many quilts does a person really need after all?' she asked.  
  
Clayton thought about the time and patience, and love that would go into such a gift. He found he would like one too. Or maybe just wanted someone to care enough about him to make him such a gift. His family loved him, he knew, but to share such a gift as that? No, it wasn't in his family.  
  
Amy walked over to the counter and helped herself to some bread. She saw the sherry he had poured for her, and held it up to him in sort of toast to thank him. He watched her move across the room and admired how she looked. A simple, attractive dress. She wore her hair down, but pulled in a loose ponytail which hung over to one side resting on her shoulder. The effect was soft and elegant, and left her neck and shoulder on the opposite side exposed.   
  
Clayton joined her at the counter, and offered a toast with his sherry glass. 'To tonight. And a chance to get to know each other again.' He said, and raised his glass. Amy touched her glass to his, and they both drank. 'Where would you like to go to dinner?' Clayton asked her.  
  
'You forget, I am new in town. Why don't you suggest a place.' She said with a smile.  
  
'How about the place where you got these excellent hors d'ovures?' Clayton suggested, as he grabbed the last one off the plate and popped it in his mouth.  
  
'Well, thank you, I think.' Amy said with a laugh. 'I made them myself. I would enjoy cooking for you sometime, but I don't have anything in the house yet...' and she trailed off, looking in the kitchen with a little worried look on her face.  
  
Clayton almost choked on the bread in his mouth seeing the slight panic on her face. Had he just insulted her for thinking she had bought these, or complimented her cooking? She seemed to take it as a compliment, so maybe he was ok. The evening was not starting off as smoothly as he had hoped. But he was finding out a lot about Amy Harris, that is for sure.  
  
'Oh, I love them, really. I just thought....I guess I don't know that many women who are such good cooks.' He finally fumbled out. 'I know a great place not far from here. Maybe we could have dinner in another night.'   
  
'Yes, that would be fine. Shall we?' she asked as she picked up her evening purse.   
  
'Allow me' he said, and offered her his arm and opened her door. With that, they left for dinner.  
  
The restaurant he took her too was small, and casual and they had a terrific meal. They talked about so many things, schools they attended, books they enjoyed, their favorite movies. They talked about horseback riding, as they had sat over coffee after the meal talking into the night. As they finally stood up to leave, Amy suggested they walk down the street, take the long way back to the car, before going home. Clayton was happy to delay taking her home as long as he could. He had enjoyed spending the evening with her so much, he did not want it to end yet. So they walked down the block. They were quiet for a while, and Clayton finally broke the silence.   
  
'Do you have plans for the weekend?' he asked.   
  
'Well,' Amy began. 'You will probably find this silly, but I was planning on playing tourist.' She answered, a little embarrassed.  
  
'Tourist?' Clayton asked.  
  
'I have never been to Washington, DC. And this is my first weekend free that I don't have to unpack, or report for duty, and I wanted to go around and see the sights.' She said.  
  
'I would love to show you around.' Clayton offered.  
  
'No, you don't have to do that.  
  
'I would like to show you the sights.' And he found that he really did want to show her Washington DC. He had lived here most of his life, and all the famous sights were routine to him. Showing them to Amy, who had never seen them, would be fun.  
  
'All right. If you are sure.' She said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.  
  
Clayton smiled. 'I will pick you up at 9:00 am Saturday. We will have breakfast, and play tourist all day.'  
  
'Thank you Clayton.' She smiled at him, and leaned in and kissed his cheek.  
  
Clayton smiled the rest of the evening.  
  
Saturday  
  
09:00 hours local time  
  
Clayton was as good as his word. He picked Amy up at her apartment. They had breakfast in Washington, and began seeing the sights. On an impulse, Clayton even brought along his camera, to try and get a picture of Amy when she wasn't looking. She of course had her camera, planning on snapping pictures to send home to her father, of all the sights.  
  
Clayton felt like a kid, seeing all the sights that were routine to him through her eyes. Amy was so excited and impressed with all the memorials. Read all the information on plaques, or speeches that had been etched into walls. She became a little misty at the Marine memorial, the Iwo Jima statue, and he let her take all the time she wanted there, looking at the statue from all angels.  
  
When he brought her to the Viet Nam Memorial, they both became quiet, and stopped a little way from the wall, to get the full effect. Amy had a lump in her throat, and she could feel the tears welling behind her eyes. 'I have seen pictures of course, or seen it on TV, but is it is very....' Words failed her. 'It is much larger than I thought.' She finally finished.  
  
'Come on, I'll show you something.' Clayton said. He led the way to the wall, walked up to one panel, and started following the names with his finger, until he found the one he was looking for.  
  
'Harmon Rabb, SR.' he read. 'Harm's father. He was shot down over North Viet Nam, Christmas Eve, 1969.' And there on the black granite was the name. Amy touched it too, trying to make contact with a man she never knew, but felt a loss for him. 'Harm must have been pretty young.'   
  
Clayton only nodded, and took his hand away. He swallowed hard. 'Harm comes here every Christmas Eve to spend some time with his father. I sort of envy him that.' Clayton finished in a whisper.  
  
Amy felt they were moving onto some sacred ground, but did not want to push Clayton. She asked what she hoped was a simple question. 'Did your father serve over there?'   
  
'He was head of Station in Saigon. But he came home from that assignment.' There Clayton abruptly stopped.  
  
Amy thought it best to be quiet, and see where Clayton would go from there. She decided to just let him speak, or stand quietly beside him. She sensed there was more, but was he ready to talk about it?  
  
Clayton looked up and down the wall, at all the names, and mementos left on the ground beside the wall. He looked at the people, like he and Amy, that have come to pay their respects, to either loved ones, or just all the fallen men and women of a far away war.  
  
'You know. Not all those who die for their country get their name on a wall somewhere to be remembered and honored by everyone.'  
  
Amy saw his jaw clench. He was trying very hard to hold in his emotions, but it was difficult to do that here. She looked at him, and took his hand in hers and said 'You're right. But those people do have families that remember them and love them still, and they will never forget their sacrifice.'  
  
Clayton looked down at her, and saw that she was looking very intently at him, then she turned and faced the wall of names again. Without him telling her the whole story, or as much of the story as he knew, she understood. She understood that Clayton missed his father too, and however silly it may be, was a little jealous that he did not have a memorial to go to, to honor his father like Rabb did. And he missed that. Did she know that the CIA had a wall of anonymous stars for the fallen agents? That he had picked one out, just in his own mind, that he considered his father's? But that, sometimes, it just wasn't enough.  
  
They stood there, with their own thoughts a few more moments, holding hands. Then Clayton turned, and still holding Amy's hand, made his way down the wall, and back onto the main walkway.   
  
They didn't start speaking until they were well away from the wall, and began talking about where to go next.  
  
They grabbed some lunch, and were still enjoying the view of the Mall as the afternoon drew to a close. Clayton saw a sidewalk flower stand and headed toward it. He decided he wanted to buy Amy some flowers before taking her home. As she looked at the different bouquets, Clayton wondered to the other side of the stand and took out his camera. He took a couple of pictures of Amy in the mist of roses and Iris and all sorts of flowers. Amy had picked up a bundle of pink sweetheart roses and was taking in the scent of them, when she saw Clayton across from her and she smiled at him at being caught like a little kid sniffing the flowers. At the moment that she smiled, Clayton snapped a picture. And that one became his favorite picture of her from their day together. He paid for the roses, and they strolled off to the car when Clayton's cell phone rang.   
  
'Excuse me for a moment please.' He said as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 'Webb'   
  
Amy moved away from him a few steps to give him privacy for his call. It had been a wonderful day. She had loved walking around Washington, and seeing all there was to see. And learning more about Clayton, and how he loved his family, and how he had lost his father somehow while he was away working for his country. This service runs deep in his family, Amy realized, and she respected him for it.  
  
'I'm sorry Amy, I have to report into the office.' Clayton came up behind her with a troubled look on his face. 'I have to go in immediately. I'm sorry, I can't drive you home. Here,' he pulled out his wallet. 'let me arrange for a cab.'   
  
Amy pushed the wallet aside. 'I'm a big girl Clayton, and a marine. I can get myself home.'   
  
'No, I insist. A gentlemen makes sure a lady is taken home.' Clayton said a little sternly.  
  
'You go to the office. Don't worry about me. Call me when you can. I'll talk to you later. Thank you Clayton, for a wonderful day.' And she kissed him again, and began walking away.  
  
'Amy,' he began, and started walking toward her.   
  
She turned and looked at him. 'I'm fine Clayton. Really. Bye.' And she turned and kept walking across the street, very sure of herself.  
  
'Well, call me when you get home, so I know you are all right.' He called after her.  
  
She looked back at him one more time, 'OK dad.' Then she was gone.  
  
'That's what I get for dating a Marine.' Clayton said out loud. But really he was thinking, she understands me and my job so well. Then he turned, and headed for his car.  
  
END of Part 1  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Second Chances  
  
Part 2  
  
Weeks later  
  
CIA Headquarters  
  
Langley, VA  
  
2030 hours local time  
  
Clayton Webb was working late, again. The new investigation he had begun on an insurgent group operating in Northern Iraq was keeping him, and a few other agents very busy lately. No one seemed to know much about them. How many there were, or where they were operating from, but they were raising havoc up there in Iraq, and he had been assigned to find out what he could about them, and how they could be stopped before they grew any stronger.  
  
His mind was turning to mush. He had been at it since very early this morning and he was tired. He glanced, for at least the 100th time today, at the small picture of Amy on his desk. It was the one he had taken weeks ago, at the flower stand on the Mall in DC. It was a very small, unassuming photo, that he sometimes slipped in his drawer before holding a meeting in his office. Who he was seeing was not anyone else's business. And so far he had been able to keep their relationship under wraps. He was becoming very fond of Amy. They enjoyed each other's company very much, and she made him laugh, which was not an easy thing for someone to do.   
  
The past few weeks, he had broken some dates, or came late, or left early, all because of his job. And unlike other women he had gone out with, she was very understanding, and accommodating. He was very lucky, he thought.   
  
When could he see her again he asked himself? It has been a few days, and he felt he deserved a break. He should pick a night, and take her out to dinner.  
  
Clayton pulled out his PDA, and looked at his calendar. There, on the small silver screen for today was the message:  
  
7:00 Dinner w/ Amy. Layffette.  
  
Dinner with Amy! Oh my God, I forgot! She's gonna kill me.  
  
Clayton pushed the PDA back into his coat pocket, closed his laptop, and raced out of his office. As he rode the elevator down, he started thinking of how he could make it up to her. They had arranged to meet at a great French restaurant he knew about. It was one of his favorites. It was to have been a make up dinner, to make up for all the times previously that he had stood her up, or left early.   
  
This will be the end of the understanding girlfriend. Be ready for a blow up Clayton, he thought to himself. He got in his car and headed for the restaurant.  
  
Layfette's Restaurant  
  
Arlington, VA  
  
2100 hours local time  
  
Amy was just going out the door of the restaurant, walking down the steps, when she saw her errant boyfriend, one Clayton Webb, come hurrying down the sidewalk on his way to the stairs. He stopped at the bottom and looked up to see her standing at the top, smiling down at him. Was that a smile, or smirk, Clayton wasn't sure. But he was prepared for the worst.  
  
'Working late again?' Amy asked.  
  
'Yes' Clayton carefully answered.  
  
'Maybe I flatter myself too much, but with you Clayton, I believe you each time you say you missed a date with me because of working late. I am sure it is the truth, and that you are not really going out with another woman on the side. Unless of course it is your mother, and I can hardly be jealous of her.' As she said this, Amy slowly made her way down the stairs, until she ended on the stair just above where Clayton was standing. She was still looking down at him, with the smirk on her face, and he had to look up at her, and she liked this vantage point. She waited there for his reply.  
  
'I was working late, and not with another woman, or my mother this time.' He promised.  
  
'You can still take me home.' She said, and moved past him toward the sidewalk.  
  
'Don't you want some dinner?' he asked, but as if on cue, the lights on the front of the restaurant went out. That's right he thought, it is just a little dinner place, and they close early.   
  
'Are you hungry?' she asked.  
  
'Well,' he said, 'I did grab a sandwich earlier at the office. You ate though, without me?' Clayton said it in a hopeful way, indeed hoping she did not waste the whole evening. 'Isn't the food terrific?'  
  
'I didn't eat anything in there Clayton. I couldn't afford anything on their menu. But what I saw looked really good.' And she turned and started walking down the sidewalk, expecting him to follow her.  
  
'Wait a minute.' Amy turned and faced him. 'You're telling me you waited 2 hours for me, and you didn't eat any dinner, and you are still speaking to me? Why didn't you order something? They know me in there, they could have just billed me.'  
  
'I didn't know I could do that. It's ok, I'll eat when I get home. Come on, I'm tired and I want to get going. It's been a long day.' And she started walking again.  
  
Clayton caught up with her and stopped her. 'You should be furious with me! I stood you up tonight, you didn't get anything to eat. This is what...at least the 4th time in 3 weeks that I have either stood you up, or left early when we were together. Most women would be making a scene, or broken up with me, long before this.'  
  
Now Amy was getting mad. 'Clayton, how many of those women knew what you did for a living?'  
  
'Not many.' He answered.  
  
'Yes, well I do know, and I know that whatever was keeping you at the office was something important for our Nation. Right?  
  
'Right.' Came the guarded answer. Where was she going with this he thought?  
  
'Something you can't tell me about.'  
  
'Right.'  
  
'Something that will eventually take you out of town...for some amount of time. You won't know when you will be back, and you will not be able to contact me while you are away.'   
  
Clayton nodded to all of this as Amy spoke.  
  
'Clayton I may not like the effect your job has on our relationship, but I understand it. And please,' her voice rose a little with anger now, 'don't put me in with the group of self centered, selfish, women who you have gone out with, that didn't understand. I know what duty is, and I respect it. As I hope you respect it in me.'  
  
'I do respect you. And I think you are a wonderful, caring woman, and I am lucky to have you in my life.' He said very sincerely.  
  
'And as long as you keep thinking that, we will have no problems at all.' She said light heartedly, but she smiled and winked at him to let him know she was kidding, and appreciated the compliment.  
  
'Now, will you take me home please? I'm beat.'  
  
Clayton held out his arm for her to take. 'Right this way.' And lead her to his car.  
  
The ride home was very quiet. They both enjoyed the comfortable silence between them. They seemed to have arrived at a new point in their relationship, and they just wanted to stay and enjoy the moment for now.  
  
Clayton walked Amy to her apartment door. Amy had toyed with the idea of inviting him in for the night, but was just not sure if they were ready to go to that next step. Really, not sure if she was ready to go to the next step. It would be very easy to fall in love with Clayton Webb. He was honest, loyal, good looking, charming, and treated her like a lady when they were together. It was just getting together that was the hard part.  
  
They arrived at her door, and she still had not made up her mind, when he made it for her.  
  
'I'll say good night here.' He said. 'We both have had a long day, and I leave early tomorrow.'  
  
'Ah, one of those 'Don't ask where, don't know how long trips' right?' She asked.  
  
'Yes.' He leaned in and kissed her very tenderly on the mouth. 'You take care of yourself. I will call you when I get back.'  
  
'You take care of yourself, Clayton.' She said with emphasis. She was going to say more, but his arms tightened around her, and he kissed her again. This one was deeper, and longer, and said good bye.  
  
When he pulled away, there was a little sadness in his deep green eyes. He stared at her a moment, as if to memorize her face. 'Good night Amy.'  
  
'Good night, Clayton.' Neither one of them had the strength to say good bye, so good night would have to do.  
  
Amy turned and opened her door and walked through, into her apartment. He stood outside the door, and waited for her to lock the door. Then he turned and slowly walked down the hallway, to go home.  
  
End of Part 2  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Second Chances  
  
Part 3  
  
Somewhere in Northern Iraq  
  
Just before dawn  
  
Grey light filtered through the small window at the top of the room. The sun was just about to come up. It had been a very long night.  
  
Clayton Webb, CIA agent, was sitting on the dirt floor of a locked room, looking at the dust floating in the beam of light from the small window above him. 'Funny things you think about on nights like this.' He said aloud to no one.  
  
He had spent a sleepless night in the dark, listening to things that went on outside this small room, and listening to the memories that went through his head.  
  
He had relived so many things in one night. School days, family picnics at the beach, getting that green bike for his 8th birthday. His experience in the Olympics, his father's death and funeral, his first mission, his first love, and the first time he had been with a woman.  
  
Clayton had thought of his mother, and what would happen to her now. 'I'm sorry, Mother.' He said aloud, as if his saying it here, so far from home, she could possibly hear it.  
  
And Amy. He could admit now that he was falling in love with her. Was in love with her. And he had wasted so much time. He did not regret much in his life, but he did regret that. It was silly, but he said this out loud too, as if to make it official. 'I love you Amy Harris. And I am sorry.'  
  
The door to his small room opened, and two men came in, one holding a rifle, the other had a side arm stuck in his belt. Side Arm looked at him and said, 'Are you ready to answer our questions?'  
  
'No' Clayton answered calmly.  
  
'Then it is time to die.' Side Arm said as calmly.  
  
The one with the rifle moved to Clayton, and dragged him to his feet. He pulled Clayton's hands around to his back, and tied them there. Clayton recognized him as one of the thugs who had beat him over the past few days.  
  
Clayton had been in Iraq 5 days, trying to gather intell on the insurgent group that was causing so much trouble in this area. He had been picked up in a village, where he may have asked one too many questions of an informant. The informant and some friends had jumped him, and dragged him off. Clayton did not believe this little group was the insurgents he was looking for, but they may have been part of the larger group.   
  
It didn't matter now. Over the past few days, Clayton had lost count, they had beaten him, trying to get information out of him. Where were the American soldiers, who was he, why was he asking so many questions....etc. He knew they did not suspect him of being a CIA agent, just some US military personnel. He had not told them a thing, but it had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Now they were going to have to move on, and they could not take him with them. So, today, at dawn, he was going to be executed. These people have seen too many Hollywood movies. Shooting me at dawn, really, thought Clayton.  
  
The three men made their way outside. Clayton looked around, and saw that there were a few clouds in the sky. Just enough to make some color as the sun came over the edge of the earth. It was a beautiful morning, he thought. What was the old American Indian saying? 'It is a good day to die.'   
  
They walked him over to the clearing behind the building where he had been kept, and pushed him down to his knees. Side arm asked him 'Any last requests?'   
  
'Yes,' Clayton said, 'I'd like a deep grave please.'  
  
Clayton did not get an answer to his request. Up until now, he had been able to depend on his bravado to face this moment. But now it had come, tears came to his eyes. 'I'm sorry mother, I love you.' He whispered.  
  
Side arm held the weapon to the back of Clayton's head, and Clayton tried to look up to the sky. 'Father....' Was on his lips, as he heard the bullet enter the chamber. He squeezed his eyes shut, and heard a shot fired. He fell forward, with Side Arm, laying on top of him, and heard shouts and more gun fire around him.  
  
What's going on! Am I dead? Clayton thought, while he lay very still in the dirt.  
  
When the firing ceased, he lay motionless. He could not see anything around him and was afraid to move, fearing who had fired the shots.  
  
Then he heard voices. They were speaking English. He didn't know what to do, so he stayed on the ground, motionless.  
  
A pair of dusty black boots came into view. Then the tip of a rifle as it was pointed at Side Arm, who still lay on top of Clayton. Then the face of..., a US Marine.  
  
'You ok?' the face asked. Clayton only looked at him. The Marine moved Side Arm off to the side, and Clayton rolled over, looking up at the Marine.  
  
The Marine's face broke into a smile. 'Good Morning Mr. Webb.'  
  
'Golindez?!' Clayton couldn't believe his eyes. 'Gunny?'   
  
'In the flesh Sir. You alright?' Gunny asked.  
  
'I'm fine.' Clayton answered. He still couldn't believe it. He was alive, Side Arm lay dead beside him, and here was Gunnery Sergeant Victor Golindez, standing over him, with a smile on his face. 'What are you doing here?'  
  
Gunny slid his weapon over his shoulder, and took out a knife from a pocket. He bend down and cut the rope around Clayton's hands. 'Looks like I'm saving your life, Mr. Webb.'  
  
'Yes, you have. Nothing short of saving my life.' Clayton slowly got up off the ground and faced Gunny, still trying to grasp what was going on. 'Thank you for this Victor. I'm in your debt.'  
  
'My pleasure, Clayton.' Gunny said. Then he looked around at the ramshackle buildings, and the men that he and his team had taken down in the raid. 'I saw you a few days ago in the village. I thought about walking over to see you, then thought better of it. It might have blown your cover. Then last night we heard that some local thugs were holding an American. Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought it might be you. So I asked if I could take a team and go check it out, and here we are.'  
  
'I'm glad you did. And I'm not insulted that you thought it was me.' At that Clayton started to take a step forward, and became very dizzy. Gunny had to hold his hand out to catch him.   
  
'How long have you been here, Sir?' Gunny asked, taking notice for the first time that Clayton looked a little worse for wear. There were bruises on his face, his clothes were ripped in places, and he was barefoot.  
  
'A few days, I'm not sure.' Clayton said, holding his head, trying to stop it from spinning.  
  
Gunny took his arm and walked him over to the side of the building, where there was a bench. He asked him, 'Have you had anything to eat, or drink lately Sir?'  
  
Clayton gratefully sat down, 'Not a bite since I got here, Gunny.'  
  
'Here, why don't you start on this. Eat slowly, and here's some water.' Gunny pulled out his canteen, and a packaged MRE, and gave them to Clayton. 'I'm going to check on my team. We will clean things up here, then we have to hike back to camp. Think you can make it?' he asked Clayton.  
  
'I have to make it, don't I.' Clayton stated. 'Yes, I'll make it. This will help.' He said, indicating the food and water Gunny had given him. He opened up the package, and started eating.   
  
'I'll also find you some shoes.' Gunny said and moved away, leaving Clayton to eat.  
  
Clayton took a bite of food, and as he chewed, he looked around him. The sun was fully up over the horizon now. It was going to be a beautiful day, he thought to himself.  
  
The marine team helped Clayton on the hike back to the base. He was bruised, and light headed, and exhausted, but he made it.  
  
Clayton was also anxious to get back home. He had to see Amy. Had to talk to her, tell her how he felt. He promised himself he was not going to waste anymore time.  
  
As soon as they reached the marine base, Clayton was able to hop onto a chopper, and get back to the city where he had started his investigation from. He picked up his clothes at the CIA station, covered as an import business. He did not have to wait long before he was able to get on a military flight out of Iraq, and start the long flight home. He did finally get some rest on the plane, and if he wasn't sleeping, he was thinking of what he was going to do. How was he going to tell Amy he loved her? Why hadn't he done it before? He had cared very deeply for a couple other women in his life. Sarah MacKenzie being one of them. He had told Sarah he needed her, and that he loved her. But he knew was afraid of love, and never had a good definition for it. He was never willing to give up his career for love, which he was sure he would have to do, but maybe he was ready now. Some agents were able to be married, and stay effective operatives, he could too. But what would Amy think? Would she be willing to live that kind of life? Did she love him? What if she didn't? What then. Clayton's fuddled mind went over, and over these questions on the flight back to Washington, and no answers were found.  
  
Amy's Apartment  
  
Georgetown, VA  
  
0300 hours local time  
  
Amy Harris could of swore that was the door buzzer she just heard. But that was not possible, it was 3:00 in the morning.  
  
BUZZZZZZZZZZ  
  
There it was again. Must be some juvenile delinquents, buzzing all the apartments just for kicks. She rolled over, and tried to ignore the noise, and go back to sleep.  
  
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ  
  
'For crying out loud!' she yelled as she stumbled from her bed, and made her way to the front door, and leaned on the intercom button.  
  
'What!' she shouted, expecting some laughing teenager on the other end.   
  
'Amy, its me, Clay. I'm sorry about the time, but I have to see you.' Came the mechanized voice over the box. It sounded like Clay, but then again....  
  
'Clayton? What is it?' Amy asked.  
  
'Please, can I see you? Just for a minute?' Clayton said again.  
  
'All right' and Amy buzzed the door, so he could come into the building.  
  
Amy opened her apartment door and watched for Clayton to come off the elevator. He came up the stairs instead, and made his way down the hall to her door. Only this was not the Clayton Webb she was used to seeing. This was a completely different Clayton Webb.  
  
His hair was dirty, and a mess at the top of his head. His face was bruised, and he had cuts on his cheek and forehead, and he had several days growth of beard on his face. His clothes were ripped and dirty. As he came closer to her, she saw that he looked exhausted, and beneath the beard and bruises, he was pale. He came up to her, and embraced her in the doorway, holding on to her as if she was a life preserver in the middle of the sea.  
  
'Amy, Amy.' He said as he almost fell into her arms.  
  
'Clayton, what happened?' Amy gasped as she stood there holding him. No answer was given. He just kept holding her.  
  
Clayton felt as if he had finally made it home. He was safe now. Home was in her arms, much like a child finds safety and security in a mother's embrace, he felt that here, in her arms, and he felt so much more. As long as he could hold her, everything would be all right.  
  
Amy backed up, into the apartment. 'Lets go inside, and sit down.' She closed the door behind them, and with one arm around Clayton, she helped him to the couch. He sat down, and kept a hold of her hands, and brought her down to sit beside him.  
  
'Amy, I'm sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, but I had to come and see you, talk to you.' Clayton began.  
  
'Clayton tell me what happened. You don't look so good. Maybe I should take you to the hospital.' Amy began to stand to get dressed, but Clayton kept her beside him.  
  
'No, no hospitals. I just need some rest, but I need to talk to you first.' He said.  
  
'All right Clayton, what is this about?'  
  
Clayton began his story. 'Amy, the past few days.... Its never been this bad. But I had time to think. I'm tired of being alone. I've wasted so much time....I don't want to waste any more time. I am happy when I am with you. I want to be with you. I love you, Amy.' And there he stopped, and looked at her, and there was a trace of fear in his eyes. That was not the way he wanted to tell her, it is not the way he had practiced it on the plane. But there it was, and he was not sure what kind of response he was going to get.  
  
Nervous, he rushed on. 'I don't know what that means, what it will change for us, or how I will have to change. But I am ready now... I'm willing......'  
  
Amy stopped him, placing two fingers gently on his lips. 'Shhh, I love you too, Clayton. And I don't know what that means for us either, but we don't have to figure it out tonight. We can work it out as we go along.' And she leaned in, and replaced her fingers with her lips.  
  
Clayton touched her face with his finger tips, making sure she was real, and here with him. The tender kiss ended, and he leaned his head against hers, and began to relax, to give into the exhaustion.  
  
'Clayton, please. You've been hurt, you need to see a doctor. Let me get dressed and take you to....'  
  
'No. I hate hospitals.' He said. 'I just need some rest. I'll go home, and I'll be fine....'  
  
Amy interrupted him again. 'You are not driving yourself home in this condition. You should not have driven yourself here. You just got off a plane, didn't you, and came directly here, right?' Amy asked.  
  
'Something like that', came the drowsy answer.  
  
'Well, now that I have confessed to loving you, I get to help take care of you. You will sleep here the rest of tonight, and we will see how you are in the morning.' With that Amy stood up, and helped Clayton to his feet. 'Come along, you will sleep better in the bedroom.'  
  
Clayton protested. 'I will not kick you out of your bed. Give me a blanket, I will sleep fine here on the couch.'  
  
'Don't be ridiculous.' Said Amy as she led him to the bedroom.   
  
She sat him on one side of the bed, and helped him slip off his khaki jacket. This caused him pain, and he tried to hide it without success. 'Your ribs hurt?' she asked.  
  
'Everything hurts.' Clayton said. 'My head is pounding like a jack hammer.'   
  
'Wait here a moment. Try taking off your boots.' Amy left the room, and came back with a glass of water and bottle of over the counter pain reliever tablets. She shook a few into her hand, and gave them to Clayton, who immediately dropped them in his mouth, and drank down the glass of water in one gulp. 'Thanks.' He said.  
  
Amy began taking an inventory of his injuries. Bruises, contusions, probably bruised ribs, concussion, lets hope there are no serious internal injuries, she thought. What happened to you Clayton? She asked herself again. And she knew she would never hear the answer.  
  
He still had the boots on, and she bent down to take them off herself. These were not his boots. For one thing they were too big, and were in terrible shape, with holes and rips, and broken laces. She slipped them off his feet, and saw that his feet had blisters, and bruises too. 'Oh, I would have taken them off,' he said 'but I couldn't reach them.'  
  
'That's all right. Now, just lay down...' she said, as she helped him swing his legs up and lay down on the bed. She covered him with her bed quilt, and tucked it around him. 'This is nice.....' he whispered. The word 'nice' passing his lips as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
Amy kissed him on the forehead, and watched him sleep a moment, to be sure he was settled. Then she quietly turned out the light, grabbed a smaller quilt from the end of the bed, and left the room.  
  
She made herself comfortable on the couch, and tried not to think about what had just happened. He loved her, he said. How much of that was fear and panic, aftershock of whatever he had been through in the past few days? She felt that he did have feelings for her, but Love?   
  
And what, if anything was he willing to give up for that love? Did he have to give up anything? Could she make him give up a job he was so good at, and that he loved, maybe more that he loved her?  
  
She loved him. She was sure of that. She had known for a while now, and had decided to keep it quiet. But that flew out the window when he showed up at her door, and needed her so much.  
  
What would the future bring? Could they work out something together? Only time will tell, and there was no reason to try and plan it all tonight. She closed her eyes, and went to sleep.  
  
Amy's apartment  
  
Georgetown, VA  
  
0743 local time  
  
The room was bright with sunlight, blinding light. They came into the room and grabbed Clayton and began dragging him outside. He could not see their faces, but he did see their guns.   
  
They dropped him on the ground, and saw another person was being dragged passed him by other guards. He saw Amy's face.  
  
They were dragging Amy to the middle of the field. They pushed her down to kneel. They were going to shoot Amy. They were going to kill Amy.  
  
'NO!' he screamed. 'Not her, take me. I have to protect her. Please, take me. Please.....No..... Amy!"  
  
He pleated with them, he got on his knees, pulling at their legs. He still could not see their faces. They ignored him and would not listen to him. He was crying, he could taste the tears, he was begging them. 'Please....no....no...'  
  
In the living room, Amy awoke, for the second time that morning with a start.  
  
There was shouting coming from her bedroom. 'NO.... PLEASE....'  
  
Clayton? Oh, yes, Clayton was here and asleep in the bedroom.  
  
'AMY NOOOO!....PLEASE.......STOP!'  
  
Amy jumped off the couch, wide awake now, and raced to the bedroom.  
  
Clayton was still asleep, but was spread out on the bed, kicking and thrashing, balling his hands into fists in the bed sheets.  
  
Amy moved over to the bed and took hold of Clayton's shoulders, to hold him and try and wake him gently. 'Clayton, its all right. I'm right here. I'm fine. You're home, you're safe.'  
  
Clayton twisted, and his eyes popped open. He looked at Amy without any recognition, then began looking around the room. He was still in the nightmare, darting glances all around, like a caged animal. He looked back at Amy, and this time saw her.  
  
'Amy, are you all right?' he asked with panic in his voice.  
  
'Yes, I'm fine. You are too. You are back home. You are in my apartment, remember? You flew home, and came here last night.'  
  
Clayton took hold of Amy's arms. She was here with him, and she looked fine. She wasn't shot, and bleeding. Scenes started flooding back to him. A man dead, bleeding on top of him. The plane ride home. Coming to Amy's apartment last night. He looked around the room again, and began to relax. Yes, he did remember. He was safe, and so was she.  
  
The vice grip Clayton had on Amy's arms began to loosen, and he began to tremble. Amy pulled him into an embrace, resting his head on her shoulder.  
  
'It was a nightmare. You are fine. Everything will be all right.' He rested in her arms until the trembling stopped, and his breathing was regular. 'Yes, it was a nightmare.' He said. She was speaking of what had just happened, he was thinking of the past week.  
  
She pulled him away for a moment, to look at his face. If possible, in the morning light, his face was paler than last night. Or maybe that was the nightmare. The dark smudges under his eyes were still there, but the fear wasn't.  
  
'I should go home, Amy. I don't want to impose.... And you have to get to work....'  
  
'You are staying right here where I can take care of you.' She said in a way that did not allow any argument. 'Besides, it is Sunday, and I do not have to go into the office. And neither do you.'  
  
Amy continued. 'When was the last time you ate?' she asked.  
  
'I don't even know.' He said, and he really didn't. Was it the MRE Gunny had given him, or did he have a sandwich on the plane? He really could not remember, but he knew he was hungry.  
  
'Do you have any other clothes?' she asked.  
  
'Yes, there is a bag in my car.'  
  
'I will go and get the bag, and start some breakfast for us, and you can clean up, and then we will eat.' She suggested.  
  
A shower, and food? Clayton was sure he was in heaven. 'That sounds perfect.' He said.  
  
Amy got his bag,for him from the car, and he slowly made his way to the bathroom and started a shower. While he did that, Amy began a big Sunday breakfast for them both.  
  
After the shower and shave, Clayton felt a lot more human. The clean clothes that were actually his helped too. He opened the bathroom door, and the smell of pancakes and bacon waived over him. Ah...perfect, he thought. I could get used to this.  
  
He joined Amy at the table, and dug into the food like a starving man, which he was. Amy just sat back and enjoyed watching him eat.  
  
'I will defiantly go home after this, after I help with the dishes of course.' Clayton said between mouthfuls.  
  
Amy began eating too. 'There is no need to, you know. I did not have any big plans for today. And someone should keep an eye on you for a few more hours, you probably have a concussion you know, and whatever other injuries I don't know about.'  
  
She had a point. And this sure beats a hospital, Clayton thought.  
  
'Why not stay the rest of the day. Sleep when you want. I can keep an eye on you, and drive you home later.' Amy suggested.  
  
Clayton hated being taken care of, but the thought of spending the day with Amy, quietly resting, talking, just being with her was too good to pass up. 'All right, you have convinced me.'  
  
And that is just what they did. They watched old movies, Amy did some sewing. Clayton napped on the couch. As he was dozing in the late afternoon while Amy started fixing something to put in the oven for their dinner, Clayton thought about Amy, and himself.  
  
This is what I've been looking for, he thought, without ever knowing this was the piece that was missing. Not just someone to take care of me, but a place I can really relax in, a safe place. Some peace in life, and someone to share it with. Can I really have this in my life, and still be who I am? Do CIA agents get to have peace in their life, and still be agents? I want a home, and more than just a townhouse where my clothes and things are, and not my mother's home any more. He closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds of cooking, and Amy humming from the kitchen. A place to rest, he thought. A safe place in the world. In his world. And he drifted off to sleep, under a warm quilt made with loving hands, with a soft smile on his face. All was right in the world.  
  
The End   
  
Chapter 2. 


	3. A Man's Gotta Do, What a Man's Gotta Do

Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date April 2004  
  
This is the third chapter of what will be many chapters in a series titled: Webb Odyssey. Watch for more stories under this title or my name. Clayton Webb has become a favorite character with me, and the story really involves him. Enjoy.  
  
This Chapter is rated PG for some adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey II  
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
See Chapters 1 and 2, for the beginning of the story.  
  
Summary: Clayton Webb has settled down, or so it seems. And, is that really a good thing? Our favorite spy struggles with affairs of the world, and affairs of the heart.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
A Man's Gotta Do, What a Man's Gotta Do  
  
On the road to the Webb Residence  
  
Great Falls, VA  
  
18:20 hours  
  
Clayton Webb's life had moved into a very comfortable rhythm.   
  
He and Amy talked almost everyday. They had dinner together when he was in town during the week at least once, and spent the weekends together whenever they could. Clay had gotten in the habit of bringing work home from the office on Friday, spending the day with Amy on Saturday. They went for drives along the coast, or a concert, or do some activity they both enjoyed. Sometimes he would take her riding at his mother's home in Virginia. One of their favorite Saturday pastimes was walks along the Virginia beach, no matter the weather. Then they would have a simple dinner out, and go back to Amy's apartment. They would spend the night in each other's arms, giving and discovering each other in ways neither had ever experienced before. Clay could not seem to get enough of Amy, his Jar Head as he playful called her. And she teased him back, calling him Spook.  
  
Sundays were very lazy. They would work on things they both had brought home from their office; sometimes Amy sewed her quilts, with music in the background. They both loved music. Sometimes, when they were at Clay's townhouse, they would sit at the piano all evening, Clay playing, and Amy singing. Broadway songs, old love songs, hymns, whatever. Clay loved listening to Amy's clear high voice. He would keep her singing until she was horse, or laughing so hard they both had to stop. Amy made him laugh. Not too many people could do that. Clay had at times been accused of having no sense of humor, but Amy recognized that Clay had a very dry sense of humor, and she was able to tape right in and make him laugh so easily. Sundays also meant cooking. Since they both lived alone, but enjoyed cooking, they did it together, and made all sorts of dishes for each other, and cleaning up together afterwards. It did not seem to matter what they were doing, as long as they did it together, they had a good time.  
  
When Clay had to be away for work, he would tell Amy he was going, and she never pouted, or asked questions he couldn't answer. When he returned, they just picked up where they had left off, and she always asked if everything had gone as planned, or if the mission was successful. Clay would give her short answers. He knew she wasn't prying, just wondering if the work he did was successful, taking an interest in what he did. Once he had told her all he could, she changed the subject, and never brought it up again.  
  
Clayton was beginning to like this addition to his life. He found himself looking forward to Saturday and Sunday with Amy more than he had with anyone. He had never been one to 'chat on the phone' for an evening with a woman before, but he always enjoyed talking with her; about her day, what they would do on the weekend, who was going to cook, talking about everything, and nothing at all. When he did not see her, she was the first thought he had as he woke up in his own bed, and last face he saw as he closed his eyes at night.  
  
A little smile crossed his face as these thoughts ran through his head while he drove to Great Falls to have dinner with his Mother one weeknight. You've got it bad, Clay ol' boy, he thought to himself.  
  
That same evening  
  
Amy's Apartment, Georgetown  
  
18:50 hours  
  
It had been a while since Amy and Sarah's schedules had allowed them to get together, just the two of them, for dinner. Sarah had been busy at JAG, which included an investigation aboard a ship in the Mediterranean for a week. She had also been spending a lot of time with her favorite fly boy, one Harmon Rabb Jr. They were still keeping the relationship quiet around the office, but still spent a lot of time together after office hours.  
  
Amy had also been very busy with her work at the office of Home Land Security at the Pentagon, and spending time with Clay. But she had looked forward all week to an evening with her good friend Sarah, and some old fashioned 'girl talk'.  
  
The two friends had shared cooking duties, and had caught up with all the news in their respected offices. They discussed the world news and the situation in Iraq, along with the things women talk about with their girl friends.  
  
When dinner was finished, and the dishwasher started, the two women made themselves comfortable in Amy's living room. Amy brought over a glass of wine for herself, and Sarah helped herself to another tonic water and twist.  
  
'So tell me,' Amy began, 'how is Harm these days? How is it going between you two?' Amy knew Sarah and Harm had accepted their feelings for each other, and she also knew the problems that came with that acceptance. Sarah had told Amy about the relationship, since Amy did not work at JAG, and Sarah had wanted to share the news with a friend.  
  
'Well,' Sarah answered, 'we decided to tell the Admiral about everything. It was very hard, but we both felt like we were sneaking around. And that is a bad way to start any real relationship.' Sarah said. She remembered the day they had both stayed late to talk to the Admiral after everyone had else had left for the day. Both she and Harm knew they were taking a chance confronting the Admiral with the truth. It would mean one of them would have to leave JAG, because of the rule that officers can not be involved with each other in the same chain of command. But they were being dishonest with their CO if they did not tell him. And they both thought too highly of AJ to lie to him.  
  
'How did that go?' Amy asked, her interest peeked.  
  
'Better than I thought it would.' Sarah said with a smile remembering the meeting. 'He wasn't surprised. And he seemed pleased that we had actually gotten together. But our confession did put him in a tight spot. He doesn't want either one of us to leave. Though he did not actually say that out loud. Neither of us want to leave JAG, but…what else can we do?'  
  
Amy sympathized with her friend. 'Did you decide yet which of you will leave JAG?' she asked.  
  
'No, we left that up to the Admiral. He seemed to want to find a good spot, here in Washington for one of us. He said it depends on what he can find available.' Sarah answered. 'Both Harm and I trust him to do what is best, and we appreciate his support. In the mean time, we are trying to keep our relationship low key around the office. It does seem everyone knows anyway, but they are not talking to us about it. They all have been very supportive. Harm and I are very lucky to have so many people care about us.' She said.  
  
Amy asked, 'What about Bud and Harriet? They have worked there together for years?' She had always wondered how that had been arranged, around Nave regulations.   
  
'Harriet is attached to the Inspector General's office, not directly under the Admiral's command. It's too much for Harm and I to hope for, or ask for the chance for lightening to strike twice, and let us both stay at JAG.' Sarah said.  
  
Then Sarah smiled and said, 'But enough about me. What about you and Clay? How are things going between you two?'  
  
Amy rolled her eyes. She knew this question was going to come up tonight, but had wanted to avoid it. How were things between her and Clay anyway? She wasn't sure. 'Oh, things are going pretty well I think.' Amy answered. 'You know Clay.' She said. Amy knew Sarah and Clay had been involved before she finally hooked up with Harm. Amy was not sure how it had ended between Clay and Sarah, and Amy had not wished to bring it up with Clay. It might have been awkward, since Clay knew Amy and Sarah were good friends.  
  
'Does anyone really know Clayton Webb?' Sarah asked with a laugh. 'When we were together he seemed very tight lipped around me. Hard to get to know. And all the secrets, and time away on a moments notice. The broken dates. No word from him for weeks, then he would just show up again on my doorstep and want to pick up right where we left off. How do you put up with all that? I know it bothered me.'  
  
Amy thought a moment. Yes, Clay was hard to get to know. But she had found that where he did not talk much about his feelings, he did show how much he cared by how he treated her, all the little things he does for her.   
  
'We've gotten very close. I enjoy being with him, and he seems to enjoy being with me. At least he keeps calling me.' Amy said with a laugh.  
  
But Sarah wanted to know more. 'Yes, but what about 'THE JOB'?' she asked.  
  
'I'll admit I have trouble with 'THE JOB' at times.' Amy confessed, to put it mildly. 'Especially when he is away. I don't like it when he is gone. I worry about him.' She did worry about him. She couldn't help it. Sometimes she wondered if she had a right to worry about him. The memory of him dragging himself to her door as soon as he could from that one mission, hurt, and exhausted, was always with her. She would always take him in, offer him help, but she hoped she didn't have to see him like that again.  
  
Sarah interrupted her thoughts. 'Yeah, the absences were hard. Not hearing from him for weeks, then having him show up suddenly like nothing had happened, and wanting to pick up where we left off.'   
  
'Well, what do you expect?' Amy asked with a laugh. 'Go back to step C when you had reached step E in the relationship?'  
  
'But, what about the secrets?' Sarah asked. There had been things between her and Clay when they were together that still bothered her. She wanted to know that she was not the only one that had these frustrations. 'All the cloak and dagger stuff? You have to admit that is hard to take? Hard to build up any sort of trust in a relationship.'  
  
'Sarah, you already had a working relationship with Clay when you started going out with him. And in that past relationship Clay was not always honest with you, and that might make it hard to start trusting him.' Amy reasoned. 'I did not have that history, and I do trust Clay. He is out defending his country, just like I do, just like you do, not out with other women. He would never hurt me that way. Although he does go out with his mother, and I can hardly be jealous of that.' She smiled. 'Accept the man, accept the job. It's all part of the package.'  
  
Sarah remembered when Clay had hurt her. Or had she just hurt herself? When Sadik had come back, and she had to face him alone. She was hurt that Clay was not there to support her then, or after when she had been so angry with everyone. 'What about when you really need him? Need his support and he is not there?'   
  
Amy could tell they were getting into touchy ground. She did not want to hurt Sarah, making her feel as if she had done something wrong in her relationship with Clay... The fact was that Sarah had been in love with Harm all along, and being with anyone else was not going to work out. Sarah's only fault was to be in love with someone else.   
  
Amy decided to put the pressure on herself. 'Then I handle it myself, like I always have.'  
  
The two friends sat quietly for a moment, thinking of their loves, and mistakes we all make along the way.  
  
'In the end Sarah, we all do our duty. You leave at a moments notice too, break engagements, and you can't always tell everyone where you are going, and what you are doing there. How long you will be gone. You have to go conduct an investigation, or work on a trial anywhere in the world that Navy or Marine personal need you. How is that different from what Clay does? He is doing his duty. And I can't fault him for that. I don't like it all the time, but I understand.' She said.  
  
'You seem to be able to up with more than I did.' Sarah said quietly.  
  
'I don't have much of a choice. I…I think… no, I am in love, and I just have to take the job with the man.' Amy confessed.  
  
'Honey, that's great.' Sarah said, truly happy for her friend. 'Have you told Clay? What about him?'  
  
'I think he does.' Amy answered cautiously.   
  
'That's good isn't it?' Sarah asked.  
  
'I'm scared. I'm in love, but…is it enough?'  
  
'Enough for what?' Sarah didn't understand her friend's concern.  
  
Amy tried to explain, 'I'm afraid he loves me too, but will it be enough? Will he be able to love me and do his job too? I have this feeling sometimes, like Clay…thinks he can't have both his job, and love in his life.'  
  
Sarah tried to reassure her, 'Amy, Clay knows what he wants, and he will do what he has to do to get it, or keep it. Don't worry.' Sarah said confidently.   
  
'My worry is which does he want the most? His job, his life really. Or me?'  
  
Two weeks later  
  
Benefit Ball for Children's Hospital  
  
1922 hours local time  
  
Porter Webb dressed in a simple long black dress and chiffon jacket moved among the crowd at the Benefit Dance greeting friends and acquaintances, answering whispered questions from the staff of volunteers who were setting things up, and keeping an eye out for her son. This was her third year on the committee to organize the Benefit, the first year she was not chairing the event, and she planned on enjoying herself. Maybe tonight she would even get the chance to dance with her son Clayton. Or, maybe not. Clayton had said he would invite his new lady friend to the dance tonight when they had dinner at home two weeks ago. Maybe she would take up all his dances and attention tonight. When Clayton had talked about her, Amy was her name, he had a smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes. Porter was very curious to meet this young lady, who seemed so special to her son.   
  
As she glanced for what must have been the 50th time at the entrance, she saw him. His hair short and combed back, wearing an impeccably tailored black tuxedo, ah, and his dancing shoes, she noticed. She laughed at herself inside, he is a grown man, and you are still checking on the appropriateness of his clothes for the evening. Then she sighed. He looks so much like Neville, especially when he is dressed in a tuxedo. Porter Webb allowed herself the indulgence to miss her husband for one moment. Then she put a smile on her face as her handsome son, and a lovely woman approached her.  
  
'Mother, you are looking as lovely as ever' Clayton said as he took her hands in his, and kissed her on the cheek in greeting.  
  
'Thank you darling. You look very handsome yourself.' She responded as he pulled away. She stood looking at him, 'So much like your father.'  
  
'I know Mother.' Clayton responded, and the two of them just shared the moment, remembering Neville, and wishing somehow he could be here too.  
  
Clayton then turned and, and brought Amy forward. She had stayed a step behind, and watched Mother and son greet each other. She thought Porter Webb was a striking woman. Tall, with lovely features, and a commanding presence. And she obviously loved her son, and the feeling was mutual. The two of them had a very special bond that excluded anyone else. It will be hard to break into this club, she thought.  
  
'Mother, I would like you to meet Amelia Harris. Amelia, my mother, Porter Webb.'   
  
Amy stepped forward and shook Porter's offered hand. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Webb.' She said. 'And please call me Amy. Clayton has told me so much about you.'  
  
Porter looked from Amy to her son in surprise. 'It is good to meet you, Amy. Please call me Porter. It is funny you should say Clayton has told you about me. He hasn't told me hardly anything about you.' Porter kept hold of Amy's hand and began leading her away from Clayton. 'Why don't you come and sit with me and I will see if my son is good enough for you.' She said with a sly smile at Clayton.  
  
As the two women moved off, Clayton followed a step behind, and became very wary. Maybe introducing his mother and his girlfriend tonight was a bad idea. He could tell it was going to be a very long night.  
  
Clayton's prediction was right. It was turning out to be a long evening, but an enjoyable one, sort of. Amy and his mother had become good friends over dinner. His mother sharing several embarrassing stories from Clayton's childhood, and they both enjoyed the stories, at his expense. Some of them he remembered, some he had thankfully forgotten, and was sorry his mother still remembered them.  
  
He danced with both ladies, once the music started, and thought maybe the worst was over. Both Amy and Porter were good dance partners, but it just always seemed more comfortable dancing with Porter. Should be no surprise, Clayton told himself; he learned how to dance with his mother, and they understood each other so well.   
  
During one such Mother and Son dance, Porter started talking to him about Amy.  
  
'She is a lovely girl, Clayton.' Porter stated. She had watched to two young people all evening, and was very interested in watching Clayton with Amy. He seemed very taken with her. And, Amy was taken with Clayton as well. Porter was pleased with the arrangement.  
  
'I think she is lovely too, Mother. I am glad you think so.' Clayton said, and continued dancing.  
  
'How long have you known her?' Porter asked.  
  
'A few months.' Clay answered, being careful not to be too specific. He knew his mother was fishing for information, and Clay was not in the mood to bite.  
  
Porter continued with her questions. Clayton may not want to talk, but she wanted to know a few more things. 'How much does she know about you?'  
  
Clay couldn't help smiling, but he did not look at Porter right away. 'If you are asking if she knows who I work for, and what I do, she knows everything Mother.'  
  
Porter was satisfied with that for now. The two danced on. Then Porter decided to stir the pot, just once more. Without looking at Clayton, she simply stated, 'She loves you.'  
  
Now it was Clayton's turn to ask questions. 'Did she tell you that?'  
  
'No' she said. 'But I can tell. She is a good woman. Almost too good for you.'  
  
Clay had had enough. 'What are you trying to say Mother? I've never known you to be one to beat around the bush.'  
  
Porter ignored his question in true CIA fashion, and asked one if her own. 'Do you love her?'  
  
They looked at each other, and finally Clayton said, 'Don't ask me that Mother.'  
  
Porter thought it was time to back up a little, they were in dangerous territory. 'I have never been one to mettle in your love life Clayton.'  
  
'Oh,' he said. 'What about Miriam Crawford?' A young lady Clayton dated his second year at Harvard. Very pretty and full of life, who adored Clayton. Or, at least at the time he thought she adored him. His Mother had shown him otherwise. 'You were 20 years old and infatuated. She was after your money.'  
  
'Still….' Clayton said.  
  
'It hardly counts dear. I'm only saying Amy is a woman who I think could make you very happy. And forgive me for being a loving mother who wants to see her son happy.' Porter said in her defense.  
  
Clayton smiled at this. Sometimes his Mother could play the doting Mother, and bat her eyes at him to get her way. Now was not one of those times. He looked down at her. 'Happy, and providing her with Grandchildren. I've heard the conversations here tonight. You know how hard my kind of life is on a family. It's not fair really, to the agent or the family.'  
  
'You don't have to tell me Clayton. I know it better than you do.' Porter said, a little hurt.  
  
Clayton was immediately sorry. Of course she knew better than anyone. 'I'm sorry Mother.' He said it to apologize for bringing up difficult memories, and to apologize for the life she had to live, sort of an apology on behalf of his Father as well.  
  
The music stopped, and Mother and son stood on the dance floor in each others arms for a moment, looking at each other, and thinking their own thoughts.  
  
Mother thinking how it had been only the two of them for so long. Maybe it was time to open up their little circle enough for one more person. The one sitting at the table nearby watching them intently.  
  
Son was thinking about all the lonely times as a child without a father. Not knowing where that father was, not understanding why there were so many secrets. Then, loosing that father so abruptly, with so many unanswered questions. Could he do that to a son or daughter of his own? But, could he give it all up for a son or daughter he might have one day?  
  
The other dancers had left the dance floor, and the band was taking a break. These thoughts went by in a flash, and suddenly Clayton's heart had dropped to the pit of his stomach. Instead of looking at his mother, he saw Amy. His wife, older, lonely, and raising children alone, too soon.  
  
He blinked, and he saw Porter again, looking up at him, with a hint of tears in her clear blue eyes. 'I love you Clayton.' She said. 'Be happy.' Then she turned and walked back to their table, a warm smile on her face, and Clayton dutifully followed her.  
  
CIA Headquarters  
  
Langley, VA  
  
0637 hours  
  
A few days after the Benefit Ball, Clayton Webb was making his way to his office at Langley. He was thinking again about his love for Amy, a future which could include marriage and a family. Part of him really wanted that with Amy. But was it fair for him to ask her to share that? To ask a child to be part of that kind of life? He remembered his own childhood and all the times he had wanted his father to be there, but he was gone. Clayton had understood, as much as a child can understand these things. His mother had always been there for him, no matter what, but sometimes, a kid needed his Dad.  
  
What if I took a desk job, Clay thought. Or at least drew less field time? Was it fair to him to give up what he loved to do, and was damn good at? He had worked hard, sacrificed a lot to be where he was today. Was he willing to give it up to have a family?  
  
All this was going through his head and he fell back on the answer he had used the past few days. It does not need to be decided today. Or, maybe it was time he did make some decision, before things got any further with Amy. He should state his intentions.  
  
Clayton walked toward the elevators to his office. As always, he walked passed the wall of fallen agents, the wall of stars with no names. This was usually a place of peace and serenity, but not this morning. This morning there were two work men in front of the wall. There was a large tarp on the floor, and the area was roped off. Clayton walked closer to see what was going on. It was early, and not many people were around. Suddenly the air was split with the piercing noise of a power drill. One of the workmen was on a ladder, drilling a hole. The other was on the floor beside the ladder. They both were talking in low tones. The one on the floor handed something up to the one on the ladder, and Clayton watched as the workman carefully placed a star at the place he had drilled a hole.  
  
Clayton swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat. He didn't know an agent had died and would never know their name. But Clayton missed them. Felt sorrow for their loss. He felt sorrow for the agent's family too. Did they know yet? Were they receiving the news somewhere close by right now? Would there be a body to bury, or simply a memorial service? What a hell of a life, he thought.  
  
Clayton didn't pray much outside of church. But he bent his head, and said a prayer to heaven for the fallen, and the family. Then he said one for all agents.  
  
As the workmen put their tools away, and began cleaning up the area, Clayton Webb turned, and headed toward the elevators. He had made up his mind. He knew now what he had to do.  
  
Christos Greek Restaurant  
  
Arlington, VA  
  
1908 local time  
  
Clayton Webb left his office to meet his girlfriend for dinner. Usually an evening spent with Amy put a smile on his face, a spring in his step and anticipation in his heart. Tonight however, his heart was heavy, and it looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had been over it and over it in his mind for days. It was hard, but he always came back to the same conclusion.  
  
Clay had been busy at the office for several days, planing, making arrangements. He was going to go to Northern Iraq himself for a while and try and gather more information on this insurgent group. They had as much as they could from military intelligence. Now it was time to do some foot work themselves. He was back in action at CIA. He had worked hard to get here, and he had made his choice. It wasn't fair to Amy anymore. He loved her, but he had to be fair. He would talk to her tonight, and go to work overseas for a while, try and forget her. Like that would ever happen, he told himself.  
  
He had arranged to meet her at the restaurant. She would drive herself. They would have dinner, and then….he didn't want to think about what came next.  
  
Clay arrived first. He was shown a table near the back. It was a quiet Greek restaurant, olive oil and spices filled the air. He sat down and ordered a Scotch. He felt he was going to need it. Bravery in a glass on ice.  
  
He didn't have to wait long. He saw her enter the restaurant. She had changed out of her uniform and was wearing a short dark blue dress looking like the pretties woman in the world. She had a big smile on her face when she saw him, and made her way to the table. Clay shook his head, wondering how he was going to make it through tonight. Clay stood up and held her chair for her.  
  
He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss his cheek before sitting down. At the last moment he couldn't help himself, he turned and she kissed him full on the mouth. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, deepen the kiss, and make it last forever, but they were in a public place. And he had to be strong to do what he intended tonight. The kiss was short, but sweet. He could smell her perfume, and breathed deep as if he could hold onto that warm scent, take it with him. But the moment was over, and she sat down.   
  
'Hello Clayton.' She said, as she sat down in the chair he held for her.   
  
'Hello' he answered, and sat back down in his chair. The waiter came over and Amy ordered a glass of wine. Clay asked for another Scotch.  
  
Amy began talking of her day. Clay listened with half an ear. He sat memorizing her face, how her eyes sparkled, and her smile when she looked at him. He was going to miss that special smile.  
  
Amy felt Clay was preoccupied. He seemed to have his mind on something else. She kept catching him looking intently at her, and then would quickly look away when she glanced at him. He would never meet her face to face. Maybe he has to tell me he is going away again, she thought.  
  
'Clay, is something bothering you? You seem distant.' She asked  
  
'No, nothings bothering me' he lied. You have to do this. Its for her own good he told himself. Get started. 'Well, I do have something to talk to you about Amy.' He began.  
  
She looked right at him, and gave him a playful smile 'What's that?' she asked.  
  
Clay took a sip of his drink 'Amy, you know I have been working a lot lately. I've been given a special assignment?'  
  
'Yes,' she answered. 'Though I do not know what it is about. And I'm not going to ask now.' Her smiled faded a little and she looked at the table cloth. 'Will you have to go on assignment for a while?' she asked carefully.  
  
'Yes.' He answered, and left it there.  
  
She looked at Clay across the table. He looked sad somehow. Maybe he would be away a long time, she thought. She didn't like it when he was away. She missed him, and worried about him. She understood the need for him to work far away sometimes, and supported him the best way she knew how, but she still didn't like it.  
  
'Amy,' Clay began, but the waiter came with their drinks, and was ready to take their order. Neither was ready, so he moved off to give them more time.  
  
Clayton took a sip of his drink before he continued. 'Amy, things have changed for me at Langley. I will be busier, more involved with operations'   
  
Amy nodded, but didn't say anything. Clay went on, 'I am sorry, but I am not going to be able to see you anymore. It wouldn't be fair.' There, he said it, now all he had to do was wait.  
  
Amy just looked at him, her brows knit together in some confusion. 'What are you saying Clay?'  
  
'Amy, I can not continue to see you…' he started, but she cut him off.  
  
'Have I ever complained that I felt you were unfair to me?' she asked. Her gut was beginning to tie up in knots. Was he really trying to break up with her?  
  
'No, Amy. You have been wonderful.' Clay began, but Amy interrupted him again. 'Then I don't see the problem.' She said. 'If it is a matter of less time to spend together, that is unfortunate, but I don't see that we have to stop seeing each other completely.'  
  
'I just can't be with you anymore. It…, I have really enjoyed our time together. But I cannot continue in this relationship with you.' Clay couldn't find the right words. She was so understanding, and wanted to stay with him, but he knew it just wasn't possible. He hated himself for hurting her, but better now than later. He was trying to save her from a life of worry, and anxiety, and loneliness. But he couldn't tell her that. 'Amy, it is just better if we break it off now.' He said.  
  
Amy could not believe what he was saying. The knot grew in her stomach. She tried to convince him that she accepted his job, to try and stop him from doing this to her, to them and what they had together. 'Clay, I have been nothing but supportive, and understanding of your work. I don't like it but I accept it. But,….I don't understand this. Please don't do this Clay.'  
  
He just sat looking at her across the table. 'Amy. I don't want to hurt you.'  
  
Very quietly, not trusting her voice she said, 'Well you have failed there.'  
  
She just looked at him. The pain was evident on her face. He could see she was fighting to keep back the tears. Clayton wanted to look away, but he made himself look at her face. At the pain. He gave it to her; it would be cowardly to ignore it. Her lonely face would haunt him in the days to come.  
  
There was silence at the table as they looked at each other, trying to understand what was happening. Was he really going to do this to her? Had he lied about loving her, Amy asked herself. Looking at him now; at the love and pain in his eyes, she knew he had not lied about his love for her. Then why was he letting her go? Amy knew she would never get the real answer from him. He wanted out. Maybe the commitment scared him. Or maybe his commitment was to his job, not her. He had made the choice she had always dreaded. She knew it would come down to this, she just had hoped for a different outcome.  
  
'I'm sorry, Amy.' Clay said very quietly.  
  
Amy was hurt even more by that statement.  
  
'You think that makes everything all right don't you? It doesn't.' she said angry now, and got up to leave.  
  
'Please don't go, not like this. Stay and have dinner with me as a…'  
  
She stopped him there. 'Don't even say the word Clayton. I love you. You said you love me too. I can't turn that off as easily as you seem to be able to do. If this is what you want, then don't call me, don't contact me in any way. I don't wish to see you ever again if I can help it.' Amy said that very clearly. 'You want out of my life. Fine. You are all the way out then.' She turned and left the restaurant.  
  
The waiter approached the table ready to take their order. 'Will the lady be returning, sir?' he asked.  
  
Clay watched the door Amy had just stepped out of, out the door, and out of his life. 'No.' Clay answered with out looking at him. 'I made sure of that.' He downed the rest of his Scotch. 'Just bring the check. I'm not hungry any more.'  
  
Three weeks later  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
1640 hours  
  
It had been a quiet Friday afternoon. It was a beautiful summer day, and some people had snuck out early, since the Admiral was attending meetings on the Hill.  
  
Harm was making his way back to his office from the library where he had been hold up all day researching some cases. No one was around, but he did see that Mac was in her office, working on her computer.  
  
He decided to poke his head in and say 'Hi.' He had hardly talked to her all day.  
  
He brought his head just inside the doorway and stood looking at her. She was so beautiful, with the sun at her back, lighting up her hair. 'Hey beautiful' he said, in a rather loud whisper.  
  
Sarah was startled by his voice and quickly looked up. Why was he calling her that here? At the office? When she looked up, she saw that no one was around, and decided not to chastise him for calling her 'beautiful' in the office. It was safe. 'Hey yourself fly boy.'  
  
'Everyone else has skipped out, let's you and go too. You almost finished?' he asked.  
  
'Yes, I could be. What did you have in mind?' she asked him with a smile on her face.   
  
'Let's try that new Indian place on Jefferson. Then maybe we could catch an early movie.' He suggested.  
  
Mac's stomach grumbled at the mention of food. She had been too busy to have lunch today, and an early dinner sounded good. She wasn't sure about going to see a movie, but thought that could be negotiated over dinner. 'Sounds good to me. Mind if I call Amy and invite her and Clay to join us? I haven't talked to her in a couple of weeks. Or Clay either for that matter.'  
  
Harm thought it over for a moment. He was very careful of the time he spent alone with Sarah, and was sort of jealous of it. But, it would be good to see Clay and Amy. The four of them had never gone out together before, but they were all friends, so why not? 'All right, give her a call.'  
  
Harm stepped into the office, as Mac dialed Amy's work phone number. She had the phone on speaker, so Harm could hear the conversation also. 'Major Harris' came Amy's voice as she picked up the line.  
  
'Amy, it's Sarah, how are you?'   
  
'Hey Sarah. I'm good how about yourself?' Amy asked.  
  
'I'm fine, and I'm ready to start the weekend. Harm is in my office here.'  
  
'Hi Amy' Harm said.  
  
'Hi Harm.'  
  
Sarah continued, 'We were going to try that new Indian restaurant on Jefferson tonight, and wondered if you and Clay could join us.'  
  
Amy was quiet for a moment at the other end of the line, and then her voice came back. 'I would love to join you. Thanks.' She said, a little too brightly.  
  
Sarah sensed something was different. 'Oh, is Clay out of town right now?' she asked.  
  
'Um, Clay doesn't tell me his schedule anymore. We broke up a few weeks ago.' Amy just left it there. There really wasn't more to say. She was not going to make excuses for Clay, or try and explain something she did not understand completely herself.  
  
Sarah and Harm looked at each other across her desk. Surprised by Amy's answer. 'Amy' Sarah said, 'I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?' she asked, then immediately regretted asking it. It really wasn't any of her business, and Amy probably did not want to talk about it in front of Harm.  
  
'Clay just broke it off. He had his reasons.' Amy answered. Whatever they are, she did not add. Amy wanted to move on. She didn't want to get into this over the phone, or anytime for that matter. 'But I would love to join you for dinner, if you don't mind a third wheel.' She said.  
  
Harm spoke up. 'We would love to have you join us. Can you meet us there by 1800?' he asked.  
  
'1800 it is. On Jefferson you said, right?'   
  
'That's right, see you then.' Harm said.  
  
'Bye.' Amy said and hung up.  
  
Sarah and Harm looked at each other. Surprised and sadden at the news. Sarah had thought things were fine between Clay and her friend. She had been happy for both of them.   
  
'So Clay broke it off. Wonder why.' Harm said, thinking out loud.  
  
'We will never know. Not with Clay.' Sarah said. 'It is sad though. I had hoped he had found someone to love in Amy.'   
  
'To spare your guilty conscience for breaking his heart to be with me?' Harm asked.  
  
'Both our guilty consciences.' Sarah said a little defensively. 'Maybe. He just seemed to need someone, was ready to love someone.' Sarah said.  
  
'I guess not.' Harm said flatly. Sarah was right. They had both wished the best for Clay. They had wanted to see him happy. But, the reasons were his business, and they would have to leave it at that.  
  
Half an hour later, Harm and Sarah left the office. Each to go to their homes and change before meeting Amy for dinner. Both determined to put on a happy face for her, and have a good time. Just the three of them.  
  
Weeks later  
  
McClinty's Pub  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
1440 hours local time  
  
Commander Rabb entered the pub. The happy hour crowd was just beginning to come in, but it wasn't too busy yet. Harm decided to get a table in the back and wait for Bud and Turner to join him. Walking toward the back of the pub he saw Clayton at a table in the corner, a bottle and a glass in front of him, sitting back in the chair, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, but not looking at it. Clayton was looking at something a million miles away.  
  
Webb saw Rabb approach the table and he greeted him, raising his glass. "Harmon Rabb, Jr. My friend. Bar tender, another glass." Harm shook his head at the bar tender to cancel that request, and sat down at the table in front of Clay.  
  
Clay looked across at Harm and smiled. 'So she sent you. I'm glad its you, I couldn't face Sarah right now.' Clay said, and the smile disappeared quickly from is face.  
  
Surprised at seeing his friend this way, Harm asked, 'Clay, are you drunk?'  
  
'No, but I'm working on it.' Clay said, pouring himself another drink. He was not drunk yet, but he planned on getting there very quickly. 'So Amy sent you, did she?' he asked.  
  
'Amy didn't send me.' Answered Harm. 'I am meeting Bud and Turner here shortly.'  
  
'You did talk to her?' Clay asked hopefully.  
  
'Yes, I did talk to her. She joined Mac and I for dinner last week.' Harm said.  
  
'How did she look?' Clay asked anxiously. He may not have seen her, or talked to her in weeks, but her face and voice was all he could think about when he was alone. And he had been alone too much lately.  
  
'She looked better off than you right now.' Harm answered. Clay waited to hear more. 'She did look lonely and hurt though. I think she misses you Clay. Want to tell me what happened?' Harm offered. He wasn't trying to pry, just give Clay a chance to talk it out.  
  
Clay was quiet for a moment, thinking over what Harm had said. Missed me? He thought. I miss her too. For just a heartbeat he closed his eyes, and allowed himself to really feel just how much he did miss Amy. With all his heart. He opened his eyes and saw Harm waiting for an answer. He gave him one.  
  
'I'm no damn good for her, that's what happened. She deserves better.' He drained his glass, and poured another one.  
  
'I'll agree with you there.' Harm said.  
  
'You and I have a lot in common Harm. Deep down somewhere we yearn for hearth and home and a family of our own, but we have to be in control. And we realize, we can't be in control and commit ourselves to someone at the same time, so we stay away.' Clay paused here. Thought a moment, then continued.   
  
'Then there are those who can commit, like Roberts, and we watch and see how happy they are, and it makes us sick.' He took another drink.  
  
'What's this about Clay?' Harm asked trying to keep him on track.  
  
Clay just kept going with his own thoughts. 'That's something else we have in common Harm. We both lost our fathers in tragic, mysterious ways. I didn't lose mine quite as young as you did, but still….  
  
Then we followed in their footsteps. Maybe to make them proud.' Clay leaned in to talk lower, closer to Harm. 'Maybe, secretly, we think if we were in the same work, we could find out what really happened to them.' Then he leaned back in the chair. 'Only I joined the wrong branch. My branch of the service keeps their secrets, and since I am one of them, I can't break the rules to find out the answers…like you did.'  
  
'I didn't break…' Harm began.  
  
'Oh yes you did.' Clay interjected. 'You quit the Navy any time it gets in the way of what you want. Whereas I, just keep digging. Get stopped at one point, I go and try from another angle. I'll keep digging when no one is looking. Someday I'll find out what happened.' He paused, thinking. Then he said, under his breath. 'No, I probably won't.' he said, taking another drink.  
  
Clay looked up at Harm again, and asked another question. He wasn't as drunk as all these questions made him sound. Or maybe he was. 'Do you ever hate him?'  
  
'Hate who?' Harm asked.  
  
Clayton changed direction once again. 'Do you love your mother Rabb?'  
  
Harm was having a hard time following all the twists and turns Clayton's mind was taking. But he was willing to stay and listen to his friend, and keep the conversation going. Clay seemed to need to talk, and Harm was his friend, he would stay and talk. Just maybe he would gain some understanding to why Clay had broken things off with Amy, and why they were both hurting so much now.  
  
Harm answered Clay's question. 'I love my mother very much. What has that got to do with anything?'  
  
Clay continued. 'I love my mother. She is the most important, most wonderful woman in the world. And sometimes….I really hate my father for leaving her. For dying on her. Leaving her alone in the years they should have had together, without the Agency. Leaving her to finish raising me.' Clayton looked up at Harm. 'Your mother had it even tougher since you were still so young. Eventually, I'm going to die, I feel my luck is running out and someday soon, it will be all gone. And my loved ones will never know, where, or why or how I died. Did I know I was about to die? Was I in pain? Did I have a split second to think of them before the end?'  
  
'Harm, I love Amy too much to put her through that. God help me I love her, but I couldn't be…I couldn't do that too her.'   
  
They sat in silence, lost in their own memories and unanswered questions.  
  
So that was it. Harm knew that Clayton had a strong sense of protection for those he loved. This had finally made him make this sacrifice. If he broke off the relationship with Amy, Clay was protecting her from some possible, future pain, and loss. But Harm did not think Clay had known the pain he caused right now to Amy, and to himself. A man can break up with a woman, avoid seeing her, but what does he do with love he still feels for her, that keeps growing everyday? Harm understood those feelings. But he did not know how to help his friend now.  
  
Harm said simply, 'So you let her go.'  
  
Clay nodded. 'I let her go. Now. Before it got any worse.'  
  
'You broke her heart.' Harm told him.   
  
Clay closed his eyes again, as if that would stop the pain and truth from coming to him. He knew that. He had broken his own heart. But it was for the best, for both of them. At least that is what he kept repeating to himself 100 times a day. He had even thought of picking up the phone and calling her, begging her to see him, and asking her forgiveness. But he stopped himself every time.  
  
'Better now than later,' Clay said, 'after hopes and dreams and plans set in.'  
  
But what about your hopes and dreams, Clay? What about the love you feel? Harm wanted to ask, but just couldn't bring himself to it. Maybe Clay was right. Maybe Amy was safer somehow now. Harm just didn't know. And it hurt him to see both Amy and Clay so sad.  
  
The two men sat in silence.  
  
Finally Harm said. 'Lets get out of here Clay. I'll drive you home.' He could explain things to Bud and Turner later.  
  
'Yeah.' Was all the reply Clay gave him.  
  
The two men stood up, and left the pub. 


	4. Mission Gone Sour

NOTE: At the time of this writing, I feel compelled to add this note. It is not meant to forward any political agenda, only to explain some unfortunate coincidences. I want to assure you dear readers, that this story line was begun in the fall of 2003, and is being written and posted in April 2004. The fact that the current events in Iraq of escalated fighting, and the holding of foreign hostages; and the story line of this chapter is purely coincidental. I mean no disrespect to the US troops or civilians who are in danger in Iraq, by writing my humble fan fiction story. Nor do I mean any disrespect to the peaceful, faith filled Muslims in Iraq or anywhere in the world. I write for my own enjoyment, as a creative outlet, and post it to be shared by interested parties. It is an adventure story, based on a popular TV show, and I hope it will be accepted in the spirit it is written: for the enjoyment of writing, and reading and sharing. Thank you.  
  
Claire Vincent  
  
Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date April 2004  
  
This is the fourth chapter of what will be many chapters in a series titled: Webb Odyssey. Watch for more stories under this title or my name. Clayton Webb has become a favorite character with me, and the story really involves him. Enjoy.  
  
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey   
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
See Chapters 1 - 3 for the beginning of the story.  
  
Summary: Webb is back at his old job, running covert operations, and taking advantage of 'the best people' for the job. Only this time, the mission goes out of control, and our favorite spy is helpless.  
  
Chapter 4 Webb Odyssey  
  
Mission Gone Sour  
  
Clayton Webb made his way through the maze of cubicles in the office of Homeland Security. He had been this way a few times before, but it had been months since he had last made a visit here. He hoped he remembered where her office was, and that it had not been moved. Clay hated to come here and see her, ask for her help. But, they were both professionals, and he needed her expertise and language skills on this assignment. He had always used the best, and she was the best for this one. He was sure they could fill their assigned duties, and put any personnel past behind them. In their line of work, they were bound to cross paths at times, and they should be able to handle it. This was not some pathetic ploy of his to see her, and have contact with her again. A very small voice in his head kept saying, maybe it will be true if you just keep telling yourself that Clay.   
  
He came to her office, if you could really call it that. It was on the inside of the building, no windows, and was barely bigger than a closet. Clay guessed a major was not important enough for a real office in the great scheme of things in the office of Homeland Security.   
  
Her door was open a crack and he peeked inside. She was sitting at her computer; he could see her profile. He took a moment, and just looked at her, and allowed himself to feel how much he missed her. Hearing her voice, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. But he still felt what he had done, breaking up, was the right thing to do. Clay stepped a little to the side, and knocked.  
  
'Yes' she replied, and kept typing.  
  
He pushed the door open, and stepped inside. 'Amy' he said quietly.  
  
She abruptly stopped typing, and just stared at the screen. She had waited a long time to hear him say her name again. She both hoped to hear it, and hoped she would never hear his voice again.  
  
She began typing again, and without looking at him asked, 'What?'  
  
'I need to talk to you Amy. I need your help.' He said over the clicking of the computer keys.  
  
'What do you want Webb?' she said, still typing, trying to ignore him, and talk to him at the same time.  
  
'Oh, we are back to Webb are we?' he jokingly said, trying to lighten the conversation.  
  
She stopped and finally looked at him. If she wore glasses, it would have been a stern look over the rim of the glasses. As it was, it was still a stern look, with eyebrows raised. 'I repeat, what do you want?'  
  
All business, all right, he could be all business too. 'You,' he said, and wished he meant it personally, not professionally. 'I am putting together a team for a special op, and I need a communications officer.'  
  
'I'm in security now.' She answered, and turned back to her computer. She hoped he would take the hint and leave. She was not that lucky.  
  
'You were a communications officer.' He stated.  
  
'Were.' She interrupted. 'No, Webb. Don't drag me into one of your ops. It would be a bad idea.'  
  
Clay was not going to give up so easily. She should know that, he thought. 'I can have your CO order you to be assigned to this mission.'  
  
At that, Amy's phone rang on her desk. As she reached to answer it, Clayton smiled, and said, 'Right on cue.'  
  
'Harris. Yes. Yes Ma'am.' She said, and hung up the phone.  
  
'Your CO.' he stated.  
  
Amy did not answer. She got up, and walked out of her office, heading down the corridor to her CO's office. Webb was right behind her.  
  
'Major Harris reporting as ordered, Ma'am.' Amy said as she entered the office, and stood at attention. Clayton entered the office behind her, and stood in what he hoped was a neutral position between the two women.  
  
'At ease Major. I see you have met with Mr. Webb. Has he been telling you about the team he is putting together for a special op in Iraq, and how he wants you to be a part of that team?'  
  
'He has, Ma'am.' Amy answered.  
  
'Good. I have told him our office will give him our full support.' Her CO stated.  
  
'Ma'am, may we talk, privately?' Amy asked, looking right at Clayton.  
  
'I'll wait outside.' He said, and left the office.  
  
'What is it Major?' the colonel asked.  
  
'Ma'am, I respectfully request that someone else be assigned this duty.' Amy said. She really did not want to be part of any op that involved Webb. The thought of having to work with him in close quarters, take orders from him, just be around him, was more than Amy could handle right now. She had just begun to get over him, and what he meant to her. To have to be around him everyday would be just too much.  
  
'Major, may I remind you that our agency, and the CIA are working together to keep our country safe. Any collaboration between our offices is very important, to this department, to this agency, and to the country.' She stopped there to let it sink in. 'We are at war Major. We don't get to pick and choose where we go, and what we do.'  
  
'I know that Ma'am, I just...' Amy tried to explain but the CO interrupted her.  
  
'Suck it up Marine. I am aware of a personal history between you and Webb, but you are just going to have to deal with it. As of tomorrow you are T.A.D. to Mr. Webb's team, and you will fulfill your duties as any Marine would. Do you understand!' the last part, being shouted as an order.  
  
'YES, Ma'am!' Amy answered, snapping to attention.  
  
'Dismissed'   
  
'Yes, Ma'am!' Amy turned and exited the office, closing the door behind her. Waiting in the outer office was Clayton. He at least had the decency to wipe the 'I told you so' look off his face as she came out, though Amy did catch a glimpse of a smirk.  
  
She started walking back toward her office, and Clayton again, fell in step behind her. She waited until they both entered her small office, then she shut the door behind him, and let him have it.  
  
'This is a bad idea Webb, but I have my orders. One question though, why me?'  
  
'I want the best, that's you. I need a communications officer, who speaks Farci, has ties with the Marine Corps, and who I can trust. Not necessarily in that order.' He answered.  
  
'There is no one in the whole of CIA that fits that description?' she asked sarcastically.   
  
'As I said, I need someone I can trust. There is only a few people at Langley who will even know we are over there. We will be gathering information on the whereabouts and actions of a particularly dangerous group of guerillas, operating in Northern Iraq. Our job will be to report on their numbers, actions, movements, and possibly bring in Marine 'choppers to take them out. Otherwise it will be intelligence gathering. They seem to target our troops quite well, and there have been reports of missing agents in the area. We are afraid that someone along the line is leaking information to this group. That is part of our mission too, if possible, find out their contact. We are going to be very busy.'  
  
'Fine, but lets get somethings straight.' Amy began. If she had to work with him, there were going to be some ground rules. 'I will be the communications officer, and fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities. But I do not and will not be a 'friend' working with you WEBB. Don't buddy up to me, don't talk to me outside of my duties, and generally stay out of my way.'  
  
'Fine' he answered.   
  
'Fine' she answered back.  
  
'Be at Langley at 800 hours tomorrow. Have a field bag packed for up to 3 weeks. There will be a briefing, then we board the plane for Baghdad at noon.'  
  
'Yes Sir.' She said sarcastically.  
  
Clayton moved to leave the office. As he opened the door, she called him back.  
  
'Webb.' He turned to look at her.  
  
'Who else is invited to this little party of yours?'  
  
'I am on my way now to invite Harm and Sarah.' Clayton answered. 'As I said, I need people I can trust on this one.'  
  
'I should have known' was all Amy said as he left the office.  
  
The next morning  
  
CIA Headquarters, Langley VA  
  
0800 hours local time  
  
Webb and his team were all on time. As Amy entered the conference room, she saw that Harm and Sarah were already there, and Clayton began the meeting right away. Harm and Sarah didn't look too happy about being dragged into this op any more than Amy, but here they all were, ready to serve their country.  
  
Clayton moved through the information quickly. Their mission basically was to track this group of insurgents, and gain any and all information on them that they could. Most of the work would be done at night. Harm, Sarah and Clayton would be a team that went out into the hills, and report back to a communications truck, manned by Amy, any information they could. The three of them would stay pretty close together, and each night they would go in the enemy's territory in a different direction, looking for their prey. After each patrol, they would report back to a Marine base, where they could get supplies, and some rest before going out again the next night.   
  
The Marine Corps had small patrols in the area that Webb's team would be adjacent to. These Marine patrols were mobile, and had similar orders. To watch for insurgent groups and take them out with back up from a Marine chopper unit also in the area. Clay handed each of them a file with the information on the guerilla group for them to read and memorize on the flight over. Once Clay had said this, Amy asked, with a smile 'After reading it, should we eat it? You know, destroy the evidence?' They had been sitting there all morning, all being very serious, and she couldn't stand it anymore. Sarah hid a smile, and Harm looked the other way. The joke was ignored by Webb, who just stared at Amy. 'Sorry' she said. 'Couldn't help myself.'  
  
Once the details were filled in, they left Langley, and headed for Andrews Air Force base to catch their military flight to Baghdad. The plane had few seats, it was mostly taking over supplies, but there was a small cabin, and they would be relatively comfortable on their long flight. There would be no stopovers; they would be refueled as needed in the air.   
  
Amy had been pretty cold to Clayton so far. He couldn't really blame her. But he was hoping they could come to some form of civility during the trip. In their line of work, they were bound to run into each other, and a working relationship would be better than this cold reception he had gotten so far. As they were settling into their seats, he placed his smaller bag in the seat beside Amy's, and was arranging his luggage above. He hoped he could at least sit beside her, for a while, and try and talk with her. As he moved the bag and was about to sit down she said...'Ah, excuse me.' Clayton looked at her.  
  
'Is this seat taken?' he asked with a smile.  
  
'There are other seats. Go over there and sit.' She indicated an empty seat across the isle and one row up.  
  
'Amy, come on. You expect to keep this up the whole time?' referring to her wish that he keep his distance.  
  
'Clayton, you are the one who made the choice in the first place.'  
  
'Amy this is going to be a hard enough mission, can't we just get along?' Clay asked.  
  
'Fine. You really want to sit here? Excuse me." For a minute he thought she might relent, but then she grabbed her knapsack, and pushed him out of the way, and went and sat down in the seat she had indicated for him a minute ago.   
  
She sat down and began arranging her things for the flight.  
  
Harm and Sarah had watched the whole thing and waited for Clayton to make the next move. He simply sat down in the seat Amy had just vacated, and began settling in himself.  
  
Harm and Sarah looked at each other, and silently exchanged the thought; 'This is going to be a long trip.'  
  
Hours into the flight  
  
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean  
  
They had each brought reading material, official and recreational. They had brought food for the flight, and by now they had tried to get as comfortable as possible to try and get some rest. The cabin was quiet. Clayton's light over his seat was still on, as he did paper work, and he was interrupted by Harm, sitting down in the seat next to him.   
  
'What are you thinking Clay? Bringing her along.' Harm asked.  
  
'I wanted her to be part of the team. I can trust her, and she is a good communications officer who speaks Farci.' Clayton answered.  
  
'She either still loves you, or she hates you. I happen to think it is a little of both.' Harm stated.  
  
Clay did not have an answer for that, and kept quiet.  
  
'Are you sure you did not ask her along because you still want to be with her? You've done that before. Taken someone on an op just because you want to be with them.' Harm said, referring to Paraguay and his time with Sarah there.   
  
'Oh give me a brake! I am not going to make the same mistakes again Harm. I did what I had to with Amy. I just hope we can work out some kind of...professional relationship and find some common ground.'  
  
'You broke her heart, Clay. Do you think it is fair to ask her to meet you on some 'common ground' now? You are kidding yourself, and hurting her more. I give her a lot of credit to put up with you on this trip. I don't know if I would in her place.'   
  
'I did her a favor Harm.'  
  
'Yeah, maybe you did do her a favor.' He agreed. With that Harm go up and went back to his seat, turned off his light, and tried to stretch out his 6 foot frame as much as possible to try and get some rest.   
  
Clay looked at Sarah. She was curled up in the seat next to Harm like a cat. Sleeping very peacefully. He couldn't see Amy since she was in the row ahead of him. Just as well, Clay thought. He had watched her sleep plenty of times, and it would just hurt to watch her sleep now.  
  
It was a good thing that Clayton could not see Amy. He would be surprised that her eyes were open, and they were filled with tears. She had overheard what Harm had said, and appreciated the support. She wasn't sure how she was going to get through the next weeks, having to be around Clay every day. Hear him say her name, watch him work, see his face with those green eyes and dimples. Suck it up Marine, she told herself. She will get through this, and get on with life. And he was not going to see any tears out of her. She wiped the last one off her face, and closed her eyes to try and sleep before they landed, and got to work.  
  
Somewhere in Northern Iraq  
  
US Marine Camp  
  
1742 local time  
  
They landed in Iraq, and immediately got on a chopper to be flown to the Marine camp that would serve as their base of operations. The camp was a group of tents, pitched near one small building that was serving as an office for the senior officer, a communications room, and a mess area under a roof for cooking and serving meals to the Marines. The soldiers had set up a small tent, a little removed from the others with two cots for Sarah and Amy to sleep in. Someone had put a sign on the outside declaring the humble tent 'Female Officer Quarters'. They were both very appreciative. Sarah was tired from the long flight, and laid down to get some rest. Amy tried to sleep, but couldn't. She decided to walk around the camp, and get her barring. Maybe go over to the communications room and meet some of the men, and see if the truck was ready. As she left the tent, and started walking around, Clay saw her, and started over in her direction. When Amy saw him coming toward her, she stopped, and decided to wait for him. There was really no place to run anyway.  
  
'Amy, can't we call a truce?' Clay said as he came up to her.  
  
'A truce? Like, be civil to each other? No.' Amy said flatly.  
  
"Oh please. I just want to feel safe out in the field. I don't want to worry about being shot in the back.' Clay said. He didn't really believe she would do that. Then again...  
  
Amy smiled. 'I hadn't thought of that, good idea.'  
  
'Amy...' Clay started, but she interrupted him. 'Look, you want to be friends, I can't just be friends. This is very tough for me. I am not used to ending a relationship with someone, and then having them order me over seas for a covert operation.'  
  
'Can't we just agree to get along? For the duration of the mission? For the good of the mission?' Clay reasoned.  
  
'Maybe for Harm and Sarah's sake, but not yours.' She answered.  
  
'Thank you for that anyway. I never stopped caring about you, you know. I can't just turn off my emotions the way you think I can.' Clay had not expected to say that, but he wasn't sorry he had said it. Maybe it will help smooth things over, and allow them to become friends, in some manner.  
  
'Could have fooled me.' Amy said coldly.  
  
They stood looking at each other a moment, each trying to meet somewhere half way. Clay spoke first. 'So you won't shoot me in the back?' he asked hopefully.  
  
'No, I won't shoot you in the back. Maybe I'll just wing ya.' She said with a wink and walked away.  
  
Clay was not completely sure whether he should be relived, or more worried by that last remark.  
  
The team began their patrols the next night. They had found some camps where a group had fires, and found truck tires near by, but they never say any groups of people moving about at night, or camped out. Each morning the four of them would come back to the Marine camp, have breakfast with the troops, and go back to their separate tents to sleep during the day. Each evening they would wake up, eat again, and head out in a different direction looking for the guerillas. Whenever they set out, they were both hopeful they would find what they were looking for, and nervous that they would find the guerillas, and what they would do then.  
  
One morning, as they are eating a meal before hitting the sack they were all a bit punchy and laughing about their favorite old movies.  
  
Clay started talking about a movie he had seen with Amy titled "The Russians are coming!" He remembered it had struck him as very funny, set in the cold war era, and how the town had been afraid of the Russians and how the Russians had been afraid of the Americans. Harm and Sarah were not familiar with the movie, and Clay was describing it, but could not remember how it had ended.  
  
  
  
Amy remembered that they never finished watching it. Clay had started kissing her, touching her, and they had ended up in the bedroom. It was one of the weekends they had spent at her place, and it had been very special to Amy. She got very quiet while Clay talked about the movie. Clay had not noticed, and asked Amy, 'How did it end, I don't remember seeing the end.'  
  
She gave him a short answer, 'The towns people and Russians have to work together to save a little boy off the roof of a church.'  
  
'I don't remember that. How did I miss that?' Clay asked a bit confused.  
  
'I don't know.' Amy said. 'I'm tired, I'm going to hit the sack.' She got up and headed for the tent she shared with Sarah.  
  
As Amy got up to leave, Clay suddenly remembered why he never saw the end of the movie. It was one of those times when he could not get enough of Amy. How she smelled, how she felt in his arms. Sitting close to her, watching the movie was too much, and he had to have her. He had switched off the TV, picked her up, and took her to the bedroom. The smile faded from his face as he remembered how that had felt, and how he missed being with her. Sharing the closeness and tenderness they had together.  
  
Sarah also noticed how the conversation had suddenly changed, and felt uncomfortable in the silence. She offered an excuse, 'Knowing you Clay, you probably got called into the office. That's what usually happens.'  
  
'Yeah. That was probably it.' He agreed quietly. 'I think I will hit the sack too.' With that he got up and left the table too. He began walking across the camp to his tent, and saw Amy still walking toward hers. She wore the dessert camouflage uniform, that looked just a little to big, and a floppy, full brimmed hat. Clay had never liked those hats, thought they looked equally silly on everyone. But on Amy, it looked good; sort of cute somehow. Clay wanted to walk over, and tell her he remembered that afternoon now too, when they had watched the movie, and never finished it. But what good would it do? What would be the point? That was over for both of them now. Clay turned, and walked to his tent, to try and get some sleep.   
  
Somewhere in Northern Iraq  
  
That night  
  
2210 local time  
  
They had driven in the truck a couple of hours to reach the next take off point. Clay had driven as usual, and parked the truck in a clearing at the base of a hill. All four of them got out of the truck, and began putting on their gear; Amy came out too, to help Sarah get everything strapped on. The three of them were quiet, but Amy was talkative tonight.  
  
'You all be careful out there. Be good, and play nice with the guerillas. Write if you find work.' She said in a very motherly tone.  
  
'We'll be careful.' Harm said with a smile, and started toward the hill. Sarah followed behind him. Their objective tonight was to roam around the string of hills in this area, and from this vantage point see if there was any activity. Amy as always would stay in the truck, and keep the communications open. It would be harder for her tonight with the hills, but she knew she could do it.  
  
Clay approached Amy and said to her, 'Try and keep contact with flight ops tonight, we may need them.' Somehow he had a feeling something was going to happen tonight. Or maybe he was hoping for something to happen. So far this mission had discovered nothing.  
  
'Yes, Sir.' Amy said with a mock salute.  
  
Clay stayed serious. 'You be careful too.'  
  
'I'll be fine Clay. Don't worry about me.' Amy said. And with that she turned and got into the truck. Clay followed Harm and Sarah up the hill.  
  
The three in the field kept contact with each other, and with Amy by radio. Amy also kept contact with the Marine choppers who were their backup should they need it. Harm, Sarah and Clay split up and began looking for movement as they had for several nights, but so far had seen nothing. They were not far apart, and kept tabs on each other through the night. After a few hours of no contact with the enemy, Clay made the decision that they would stay in this area another 30 minutes or so, then move off in another direction.   
  
At the truck, Amy saw something move outside through the windshield. She just saw it out of the corner of her eye, and tried to look harder, but could not see anything now. Maybe it was nothing, or just an animal, she told herself. She looked back at her instruments.   
  
There it was again. Amy looked out the windshield and saw a face. Only it did not belong to Harm or Sarah or Clay. 'Oh oh.' She said out loud.  
  
Clay heard it over his radio and asked, 'What is it?'  
  
'I have company.' Amy said.  
  
Clay's hair stood straight up on the back of his neck. 'Friendlies?' he asked hopefully. It could be another Marine patrol, though something told him deep down it wasn't.  
  
'No, I don't think so. They are shouting at the truck in Farsi.' Amy said, and as she said it, Clay heard gunfire.  
  
Clay started moving and talking quickly. 'Stay in the truck. We are on our way.' He was running to the point on top of the hill where the three of them had split up hours before, and where they could see the truck at the bottom of the hill.  
  
When Clay got there, Harm was already there, and Sarah joined them quickly. Harm had pulled out his night goggles, and was looking down at the truck. He could see that the guerillas had surrounded the truck, and had begun shooting at it, breaking the windshield, bursting the tires and breaking antennas. They were shouting orders to whoever was inside. Harm started counting, and was getting more nervous as the numbers grew. More of them seemed to be moving in from the road behind the truck.   
  
Clay barely paused at the top, before he turned, and began running down the trail that lead to the truck. Sarah saw him heading down and called after him, 'Clay stop.' When Harm heard this, he put down his goggles, and got up to go after Clay. He grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him back. 'Clay, wait, there are too many of them.'   
  
Sarah was trying to get Amy on the radio, using her code name. 'Birds nest, do you copy? Birds nest what is your status?'   
  
Clay and Harm watched her, and listened for Amy's reply. 'Birds nest is fine.'  
  
They all began breathing again, then Clay got on. 'Birds nest, stay put. Repeat, stay where you are, we are on our way.'  
  
Harm looked sideways at him. 'Do you have a plan? Do you know how many there are down there? I stopped counting at 23, but there is more than that down there. We don't have the weapons to deal with that many, and we can't raise the choppers on our radios.'   
  
As he said this, Amy was speaking to them too. 'Negative, Negative. Stay where you are. I am trying to contact eagle flight.' using the code name for the Marine chopper back up. She did not know that the guerillas had shot off the antennas, and satellite dish she needed to contact the Marines.  
  
Harm, Sarah and Clay waited a few more tense moments to see if she could get through. 'No luck.' She said. 'Will keep trying.'  
  
Clay shouted into his radio, 'Stay inside. Keep trying.' His heart was racing. He couldn't think. He had to get down there; he had to protect her. He started moving toward the trail again, and Harm grabbed him again. 'You can't go down there, Clay, they'll kill you!'  
  
Clay shouted back at him, 'They are going to kill her!'   
  
'You don't' know that for sure.' Harm was desperate to try and save Clay from killing himself and them in a rescue attempt. He didn't know how they were going to get out of this, but they had to keep their heads and come up with a plan, quick.  
  
Amy's voice came over the radio one more time. 'You stay put. There are too many of them. Stay out of sight, and get back to the base. Go for help. You three are my best chance....' An explosion cut her off.  
  
The three on the hill covered their heads, then moved to the edge to see what had happened below. It was possible a grenade had exploded near the truck. There was a fire under the hood, and a lot of black smoke billowing out from under the truck. They watched helplessly as two men shot at the back door to the truck, and covering part of their faces from the smoke, go inside. In a moment they came out of the truck dragging Amy between them and threw her to the ground.   
  
Harm Mac and Clay could see that Amy was doubled over in pain, coughing out the smoke from the truck. Another man came over to her and picked her up by the coat front and shouted something to her in Farsi. Harm, and Clay looked at Sarah for a translation, but she shook her head. The man is too far away to understand what he is saying to Amy. She was limp, her head was hanging back, and her body was still wracked by the coughs. The man dropped her back to the ground, and started issuing orders to the men.  
  
Clay turned quickly and started moving toward the trail again, saying as much to himself as to Mac and Harm, 'I have to get down there.' Harm stepped in front of him, blocking his way. 'What are you going to do?'  
  
'I'm going to trade myself for Amy. Try and save her life.'  
  
'They'll kill you, and keep Amy. Or, take both of you away and we'll have two people to try and find.' Harm insisted.  
  
'She stands a better chance of staying alive with me there than alone.' Clay answered.  
  
Sarah approached them saying to Clay, 'I can't let you go down there and be prisoner again.'  
  
'I'll be all right. I can't watch them take her away. I have to help her.'  
  
Harm tried another track. 'Amy was right. We are her only chance now for rescue. We have to go back to the base and get help.'  
  
More shots were fired, and all arguments stopped as the three of them looked back over the edge of the hill to see what is going on. Clay's heart was pounding, was she dead already?  
  
No, he saw that Amy was sitting up, and a man was tying her hands together in front of her. It was time to go. 'Rabb, get out of my way.' He ordered.  
  
'I won't' was Harm's answer.  
  
'What if they had Sarah? You'd move heaven and earth to save her.' Clay said.  
  
'But I would not jeopardize others' lives in the process. That is what you are doing with us.' Harm reasoned. 'We won't let you go down there alone and get killed. Besides, there is no guarantee they would give Amy up for you. You go running in there now, you both are dead. Then they'll come looking for us.'   
  
They watched helplessly as the soldiers began moving off, in the direction they had come. Amy was in the middle of the group. Another rope was tied to her hands, and they were using in like a leash to bring her along. Clay knew Harm was right, but watching Amy being taken away was more than he could bare.  
  
Once the area was clear, Harm, Clay and Sarah made their way carefully down the trail to the burned out truck. Harm and Sarah went over to the truck to see if there was a chance that any of the radio equipment still worked, or if there was anything salvageable that they could use.  
  
Clay walked over to the place in the dirt Amy had laid minutes ago. She had lost her camouflage cap, the floppy one. He picked it up from the dirt and held it. There was something sticky on one side, and he turned it over. Blood. A big blot of it on one side some had gotten on his hand. Amy had a head wound; his mind registered the fact. Probably when the grenade went off, shook the truck, she hit her head. His heart didn't take it quite so coolly. She's injured and in the hands of an insurgent guerrilla group? What have I done?  
  
Clay folded the cap very carefully and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Harm came up to him and told Clay there was nothing left of the truck they could use. They would have to walk back to the marine base camp, and the sooner they started, the sooner they could get help for Amy.  
  
'We better get moving, Clay, before any other soldiers come through.' Harm said. He was not sure Clay had heard anything he said, but they needed to get moving. The more ground they could cover while it was still night, the better. Clay only nodded and let Harm take his arm and point him down the road. Clay barely saw or heard anything. All he could see for sure was Amy being lead away by a rope.  
  
Marine Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
1117 local time   
  
The three stumbled into the camp late morning after walking all night. They had rested a few times, but all three new of the urgency to get back with the Marines, and start searching for Amy. There was very little talk between them in the early hours of the morning. Both Harm and Mac had tried to engage Clay in some kind of conversation, but as time went on, Clay became quieter, and more determined to get to their destination, and get to work.  
  
When they arrived at the camp, the made their way to the one building, and reported to the camp CO, Colonel Fred Rickert. They had not had too much contact with the CO before this. Clay's team had pretty much kept to themselves, and did their work in the midst of the Marines. But now, they needed his help. When they entered, Clay got down to business.   
  
'Colonel Rickert. We were ambushed last night, and one of my team was captured. We need your help to begin a search of the area.' Clay said.  
  
Colonel Rickert began asking his own questions. 'Who is it? How long ago did this happen?'   
  
'Major Amelia Harris, USMC, the communications officer. It happened early this morning. We have been walking back all night. The truck was blown up, there was nothing left that was usable.' Clay stated coolly.  
  
'Hours ago? Are you sure Harris is still alive Webb?' the Colonel asked.  
  
'Yes.' Clay insisted. He would not even consider any other possibility. 'We need choppers to go back over the sight of the attack, and see if we can pick up their trail. There was approximately 25 to 30 guerrillas, moving on foot. We should be able to tell which way they were headed in the day light.  
  
Clay and the Colonel and Harm started looking at maps of the area, and making search plans. Two choppers would be sent up, one with Harm in it, and one with Clay. They would fly back over the attach area, and split up at the sight of the truck to begin looking for the direction the guerrillas went with Amy. With any luck, they would find the trail, and follow it to their camp, and take them out, and rescue Amy. The Colonel and Sarah would stay in camp, and monitor the search from there, keeping contact with both choppers, and any ground troops or extra back up that might be needed.  
  
The plan seemed sound, and straight forward. Clay was hopeful they could find her quickly. It felt good to be doing something positive finally, after all night of walking and worrying. He felt energized, and was ready to blow the whole group of insurgents away if they harmed Amy.  
  
But as the hours passed, no trail was picked up, no sign of where the guerrillas had gone, or where they were now, was discovered. It was growing dark, and the chopper pilots were getting worried themselves. They were getting desperately low on fuel. The pilot warned Mr. Webb again that they had to head back, before they were out of fuel completely. 'Just one more circle, please Captain.' Webb asked. The Captain felt the pain Webb was feeling. It seemed a little more than what a regular CO would feel for a person under their command who was captured. The Captain felt bad for the missing Marine Major too, but they were all going to be MIA if they didn't head back now.  
  
'I'm truly sorry Mr. Webb, but we have to go back now. Or we are all going to be missing.' The Captain told him, as he made the turn to go back to the base.   
  
Clay knew they had to go. But he felt like he was leaving her all over again. Where could she be? How could that large a group of armed men just disappear into the night? For that is what it felt like. They had just disappeared into the dark, and Amy was with them.  
  
Along the road in Northern Iraq  
  
An hour after sunrise, that same morning  
  
Amy was exhausted. At other times in her life she had felt exhausted, and had said she was exhausted, but what she felt now, was so much worse. Every part of her hurt; her head throbbed, her arms were so sore from being pulled all night she thought she would never be able to move them again. Her hands and wrists hurt and bled from being tied together. And her feet...  
  
The men that lead her had walked, no, jogged most of the night along a track, it couldn't even be called a road, it was just two tire tracks in the dirt. They had stopped twice for five minutes each time to catch their collective breath, before they moved again. At each stop the men pulled out canteens, and some even had food, but no one made a move to give her any water. On the first stop, Amy had fell to the ground to rest, when one of the men came over and kicked her a couple of times, just to get a reaction from her. He spoke to her in Farsi, and she understood him, but had decided not to let on she understood their language. She might be able to pick up information if they talked freely in front of her. He called her names, and insulted her, and she just rolled up in a tighter ball to try and protect herself. He was trying to look like a big man in front of the others, and look tough to her, when he decided to make her life a little worse, he had said. He took out a knife, and sliced through the laces on her boots. Then he pulled them off, and threw them into the rocks, followed by her socks. This was met by cheers, and laughs by his fellow soldiers, as they dragged her up by the rope and started down the road again. The rest of the night, Amy had marched barefoot over rocky terrain, stumbling trying to keep up. He feet became bruised, and cut, and still they kept going. She had worked hard to stop thinking about the pain, and concentrate on moving, one foot then the other, down the track. They wouldn't march her to death, would they? It didn't matter. She wasn't going to die. She would just keep moving.  
  
Now they had made another stop, this time for longer than 5 minutes. Amy took the time to catch her breath, and try to get as much rest as possible, before anything else happened. None of the men came over to check on her, or to bother her, and she counted that as a blessing at this point. The one that had shouted the most orders during the night, the leader she had decided, came over to look at her once, but she barley noticed.  
  
With her head on the ground, she heard them coming. A vehicle, maybe two, moving down the road toward them. For a second she thought maybe it could be US, but when the men did not seem too troubled about the approaching vehicle, were not running for cover, she doubted it was the US. Probably just more of them.   
  
It was two trucks, old troop carriers. They stopped and the men began pulling themselves into them. Thank God, Amy prayed. No more marching. She did not even think about where they were taking her, or how far. Just that she did not have to walk anymore. Two men came over to her and picked her up, by the shoulders and knees, and threw her into the back of one of the trucks like a sack of potatoes. The rest of the men boarded the truck, leaving her on the floor, stepping over her, giving her a kick now and then to move her out of their way. When they were all on board, the trucks were put into gear, and started driving down the road. They were on the move again.  
  
Marine Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
2105 local time  
  
The choppers carrying Harm and Clay landed, they got off, and slowly headed for the command building. It was fully dark now, and colder, now that the sun was down.   
  
As soon as Harm entered the building, Sarah got up and went to him. He enfolded her in his arms, and they just stood there. Sarah looked wiped out, Clay thought, and felt badly that he was putting them all through this ordeal. He could just barely hear that Sarah had begun to cry, and Harm was whispering to her, trying to comfort her. 'She'll be all right. She's a strong, tough marine. We did what we had to do. We will find her Sarah.' Clay sincerely hoped so. He left them alone for a moment and went into another room to find Colonel Rickert.  
  
He was at his desk, just hanging up a phone. He looked at Clay, and Clay could tell there was bad news coming. 'I'm glad you are back. I was going have to call you in anyway. I have new orders.' He stopped there, looked up as Harm and Sarah joined them. Harm still had his arm around Sarah, and she was leaning on him for support. The Colonel continued. 'We are a mobile unit, and have been ordered to break this camp, and move to another location. Tonight.'  
  
'Why tonight, Colonel?' Harm asked. His tired mind was having trouble connecting the dots. There was something more going on here, he could feel it.  
  
Clay answered the question for the Colonel. He had expected this, and had hoped he would have more time. 'Amy knows this location and she is in enemy hands.'  
  
Sarah spoke up in her friend's defense. 'She would never talk!'  
  
'It is standard procedure, Colonel MacKenzie.' Rickert answered. 'They'd move this camp if I was taken or the lowest private was taken. It's no reflection on Major Harris.'  
  
Clay stayed on the task at hand. 'When do you move?' he asked.  
  
'We are packing up non-essentials now and moving them out. The rest will go out at first light.' Rickert answered.  
  
'Then we will refuel, and go back up. I want to check further north and follow a road I saw...' Clay began, but was cut off by Rickert.  
  
'I'm sorry Mr. Webb. There is more. Along with the orders to evacuate, orders came down to cease all search operations for Major Harris.'  
  
All three piped up at that pronouncement. 'What?' 'No, you can't be serious.' 'No, they can't order us to stop...'  
  
Colonel Rickert talked over them. 'You all have been ordered back home. This came direct from Washington.'  
  
'No way.' Clay declared. 'I'm not leaving. How can they just leave her?' he shouted.  
  
'They are not abandoning her.' Rickert stated. 'The Iraqi Provisional Government wants to be in charge of negotiating the release.'  
  
'Negotiate?' Clay asked.  
  
'Washington and the Iraqis feel the guerillas will make contact and try to use the Major as leverage in a prisoner exchange, or something.' Rickert explained.  
  
Clay was furious. He could not believe this was happening, had the whole world gone mad? 'That's insane. These people don't negotiate with anyone. They don't recognize any government, provisional or otherwise. They are ruthless terrorists whose only goal is to cause pain and suffering to the US and get them out of Iraq and the Middle East!'  
  
'Clay, calm down.' Harm said. 'This won't get us anywhere.'  
  
Clay turned on him. 'Its true. No one will be contacted.'  
  
'It is possible.' Colonel Rickert suggested. 'A Marine Major, a woman, is a lot of leverage. They will get attention in the international media to make themselves known and feared, and get what they want.'  
  
Harm agreed. 'And if they did want leverage, and an exchange, it would be in their best interest not to hurt Amy while they have her.'  
  
Clay was still mad. 'It will already be in their best interest not to hurt her, because if they harm one hair on her head, they'll face me, and Allah help them then.'   
  
Sarah spoke up. 'This is all just speculation so far. We don't even know who has her.'  
  
'We can only wait, and hope they make contact for a trade of some kind.' Rickert said.  
  
Harm asked, 'How long do we wait? How long will the US wait for the Iraqis to try and handle this themselves? Isn't time important here for Amy's safety?'  
  
'The standard is 72 hours.' Clay answered him. 'These types usually move on and kill any prisoners after about 3 days. They question them...' he didn't want to think about what they might do to her. He knew plenty of ways to break a prisoner, had used some means himself at times, and had it done to him as well. He blocked that possibility out of his mind for now. He would not be able to think straight if he thought about what could happen to Amy. 'It has been about 24 hours already, since she was taken.'  
  
They were all silent at that. Then Rickert spoke up. 'At daylight, a chopper will take you back to the airstrip. You will board a plane there and head home.'  
  
Clay dismissed this plan. 'No. I'm going out again. I want to check that road.'  
  
'Mr. Webb,' Rickert began. 'I can't let you do that.'  
  
'I'll just take a humvee.'  
  
'No' Rickert said. 'I have my orders. You will leave on the plane in the morning with the others, and my Marines and I will move out. We have our orders.' He left the three of them alone.  
  
'They have taken it out of our hands, Clay' Harm said. He hated the idea of leaving, but there was no more the three of them could do for Amy, not without back up. He tried to convince Clay. He looked so determined to do something, and that scared Harm. 'If more military or intelligence people are caught poking around it could jeopardize any negotiations. And I don't need to tell you that if you get caught by guerillas, CIA would leave you and Amy behind in a minute. It would become Webb and Harris who? We have no knowledge or operatives with those names.'  
  
'This is a nightmare.' Clay said shaking his head. When was he going to wake up and find that this was all a nightmare? What had he done? How could he do this to her?  
  
Sarah walked over to him. 'I know. There's nothing we can do. The safest thing we can do for Amy now is go home. Go over the Intel we did gather. We all saw them, maybe we can help identify them, report on what we saw, and it might help find her.' She wasn't sure she was making sense, but she was trying to keep Clay from going out alone.  
  
Clay looked at her, hopelessness stamped on his face. 'Look for Amy while in Washington? It's small comfort Sarah.' And he walked out of the room.  
  
Sarah looked back at Harm with a hurt look in her eyes. 'Don't take it hard.' He told her. 'I'm sure he didn't mean it.'  
  
'I know.' She said. 'He blames himself for this. When we were in Paraguay, he promised me he would do anything he could to protect me. He was ready to die for both of us if that would keep me save.'  
  
Harm nodded. 'His mother told me he is very protective of those he loves.'  
  
'Do you think he still loves her?' she asked.  
  
'I know he does.' Harm said. 'And now he is helpless.'  
  
Iraqi Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
That same evening. After sundown.  
  
The trucks came to a stop, and after all the men had gotten out of the truck, the last two grabbed Amy, and pulled her out, and to her feet. She crouched in pain, but they did not wait for her. They grabbed the rope still tied to her wrists, and pulled her to a building. They pushed and pulled her down a short flight of stairs, and pushed her into a room. Looking around, as they untied her hands, the room reminded Amy of a storage room in her grandmother's basement. Dirt floor, one small window high up beside the ceiling, big wood door. Only this room was empty of any furniture or shelves. The leader had followed them inside.  
  
He began talking as soon as the door was closed. 'You will be our guest here. You will give me the information I want, and I will negotiate your release. Give me no information, or try to trick me, and you will die in this room.'  
  
Amy looked around her in what she hoped was a noncommittal way. Then came back to the leader. She was scared all right, but she'd be dammed if she was going to show fear to him.  
  
'What were you doing in the truck?' he asked her.  
  
Amy just looked at him.  
  
"How many soldiers were with you?' he asked.  
  
Silence.  
  
'Did you not understand what I said woman? Answer my questions!' he shouted.  
  
Amy smiled and laughed a little. 'Your really think I will answer your questions? I am a United States Marine Officer. Harris, Amelia, Major, and I don't answer terrorist's questions.' Before she had ended the sentence he rushed at her, grabbed her by her shoulders and slammed her against the stone wall. Her head banged on the stones, and she saw stars, and red haze. In a moment it cleared, and she saw his ugly face. He was yelling at her again.  
  
'You think I am joking? You'll die here. Slowly and painfully if you do not answer my questions. Where is the Marine base you came from? How many Marines are there?'  
  
When Amy's head cleared enough, she was tired of his shouting at her, so she spit in his face. He swore in his native tongue, and punched her with the back of his fist, sending her to the floor.  
  
Amy lay there, thanking her big brother Peter for that little bit of street smart he had taught her when they were kids. Her head hurt worse now, and her ears were ringing. But her fear was gone. Let them hurt her. She was a Marine, and she would never give up her fellow Marines.  
  
The leader spoke to the other men in Farsi, she hadn't quite caught what he said but she didn't want to let on she understood them. The other two men came over, and turned her on her back. They began pulling off her pants, and unbuttoning her jacket.  
  
Now, Amy was getting very scared. Did they intend to rape her? They couldn't. She started to struggle, but it only got her more blows to the head and body. The leader was talking to her again. 'We will take a page out of the US interrogation book. You have special rooms where you put your prisoners and expose them to extreme temperatures. We don't have the special rooms, but we do have the desert.' The men had succeeded in taking all her clothes expect her boxer short underwear. She wore these since they were more comfortable under the rough material of her uniform. 'You may keep the men's' underwear, it is not necessary to leave her completely naked.' He told his men. 'Stand up' he ordered Amy.  
  
The men pulled and pushed her into a standing position. She covered her breasts with her arms, and wished her body did not give her away with the gooseflesh that had come up with exposure to the cold air. It wasn't freezing, but it wasn't warm either.  
  
'Maybe I should send you out to the middle of the compound like that, umm?' He smiled a sadistic smile. 'We have been fighting a long time, me and my men. They have not been home to see their wives.' He was beginning to see fear in her eyes finally and it pleased him. He would break her yet. 'However, to lie with an infidel woman is a grave sin and I will not put that temptation before my men.' He dismissed the other men from the room, and he turned to follow them, carrying her clothes. 'While the days in my country can be pleasant this time of year, the nights get very cold, and I am thankful for my campfire. We will sleep tonight, and will be gone tomorrow and into the next day. There will be enough men here to keep watch on you, never fear. After a couple of nights, enjoying our winter weather, maybe you will be ready to answer my questions.'  
  
'Don't count on it.' Amy said between shivers, as the he left, and closed the door behind him. When she heard the bolt being pushed in she shouted. 'You call this winter? I'm from Wisconsin. We have real winters there!'  
  
US Marine Base  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
0034 hours local time  
  
Harm had gone back to the tent he shared with Clay and packed his few belongings to be ready to leave at first light. Then he lay down on his cot, and had hoped to get some sleep, but it wasn't that easy. He had been awake more than 24 hours, but he could not settle down. They were leaving, and Amy was still somewhere out there. Clay's words kept playing in his mind. If it were Sarah you would move heaven and earth. He would, he knew he would. But what could they do? They had no support, no backup, no idea where to look, no equipment...But they were leaving without her. Had he been right to stop Clay at the top of the hill? He wasn't so sure anymore.  
  
Clay finally came in, but made no move to gather his belongings, or try and lay down to rest. He stood, looking out the screened window of the tent. 'Where have you been?' Harm asked.  
  
'On the phone with Washington trying to stay. I can't. Then I went for a walk.' Clay answered in monotone voice. He sounded defeated.   
  
'You should try and get some rest.' Harm suggested. He really didn't know what to say. What could anyone say? But Clay needed to rest. Harm wasn't sure what he was surviving on right now.  
  
'I can't sleep.' Clay said. 'Every time I close my eyes I see that truck explode, or Amy being lead away on a leash.' He stopped there, then turned and looked at Harm. 'How much POW training did you get?' he asked.  
  
'As a fighter, they train us pretty well.' Harm answered. He really could not remember how long it was, or how many subsequent courses he took in his career.   
  
'How much training do you think Amy received?'   
  
'The standard in basic training, and a few mandatory courses along the way. Probably not a lot.' Harm answered.  
  
'We get weeks, and weeks.' Clay said. 'Tactics and techniques. The people in charge of that training interviewed me after Paraguay. They wanted to know how I took it. What I did to survive.'  
  
'What did you do? Harm asked, wanting to keep him talking, let some of it out.  
  
'I was protecting Sarah. If they were hurting me, they would stay away from her.' He paused, then went on with his thoughts. 'I know what they did to me. And I know what torture we use on our prisoners.'  
  
Harm interrupted him here; maybe this was not a good conversation to be having right now. 'This group doesn't have the resources, the equipment.'  
  
'No' Clay agreed. 'They'll use more primitive ways.'  
  
'They may not do anything to her. They will need her healthy and unharmed to trade her with the US or Iraqi Government.' Harm reminded him.  
  
'I hope you're right.' Clay said, looking back out the window. It was getting colder, and Clay shivered in the night air.  
  
'Its getting cold, close the flap over the window.' Harm said. 'Lay down, try to rest some. There are a few more hours before daylight.'  
  
Clay closed the flap, and lay down on the cot, but he never closed his eyes. He pulled out her cap from his jacket, and held in his hands. He felt the need to hold onto something, everything else seemed to be slipping away.  
  
Storage Room  
  
Iraqi Base Camp  
  
0050 hours local time  
  
Amy spent the night shivering beside the inside wall of the room. Her head and feet ached. She kept trying to sleep, but the shivers wracking her body didn't let sleep come. In the morning, she thought, the sun will come up and it will be warmer. I can get some rest then. It will be warmer, and I will be fine. She tried to remember the feel of the summer sun on her family farm in Wisconsin. How hot it would get in the barn with the horses. Yeah, think about the barn, and the horses. Dad and Peter. She had to see them again. She will get through this.  
  
She thought about Harm, and Sarah and Clay. She hoped they had gotten back safely to the Marine base. Maybe they were out looking for her right now. She and Clay may have had their problems, but he would never leave her out here. 'Oh, Clay. Wh..Where are you? PPPPlease Clay.' She whispered in the dark.  
  
US Marine Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
0335 local time  
  
Clay nudged Harm awake. 'Time to get moving if we are going to make our flight.'  
  
Harm opened his eyes; surprised to discover he had fallen asleep at all. He looked closely at Clay. He looked beaten, like he had lost everything. Harm thought again that maybe he had been wrong to stop Clay when Amy was captured. But if both had been captured, the US would disavow both of them. As it stood now, there was some hope to get Amy back save through negotiations. Right now, Clay looked like he had no hope for anything. Harm struggled for something to say to help his friend, but what? He finally settled for 'Did you get any sleep?'  
  
'What do you think?' came the surly answer. It was obvious he had not.  
  
The two men made their way out of the tent, and toward the choppers. It seemed the evacuation was winding down. There was not much left of the tent village and vehicles that had been there a few hours before. Harm asked if Clay wanted to get something to eat before they left but Clay just kept on walking.  
  
Harm went over to what used to be the kitchen. A couple of privates were handing out instant coffee and sandwiches to the troops who were still left. He met Sarah there, and they both got something to eat, then headed for the choppers. Clay was in one already, strapped in and ready to go. Once Harm and Sarah were settled, they took off for the short flight to the airstrip, where they would meet up with the plane that would take them home. All three of them keenly felt the absence of the fourth member of their team, and there was little talk in the chopper.  
  
When they arrived at the airstrip, they gathered their things off the chopper, to take to the plane. Clay noticed that Harm had two bags, while Sarah grabbed another one, and the food. The bag Sarah held had the name HARRIS stamped on it. Clay really looked at Sarah for the first time this morning. She looked like she had a rough night too. 'That Amy's?' he asked her, nodding toward the bag in Sarah's hand. 'Yes. I thought I would bring it home for her. Hold onto it till she gets back.' Sarah said quietly, hoping that it would be true.  
  
Clay held out his hand. 'Let me take it. I'll take care of it.'   
  
'Its no problem...' Sarah began.  
  
'Please.' Was all Clay said. It was obvious to Sarah that he needed to hold her bag of belongings. Clay needed that tangible thing that said this is her's and she would need it later, because she was coming back.  
  
Sarah handed him the bag and they boarded the plane.  
  
It was the same plane that brought them here, and Harm and Sarah took the same seats they had on the first flight. Clay sat in the seat Amy had sat in on that flight that seemed ages ago, not just a few days. He told himself it was because he didn't want Harm and Sarah to be watching him all the way home, but he knew deep inside it was a little more than that. They were supposed to stow their gear under the seats, but Clay kept Amy's bag beside him. He just wasn't ready to part with it yet.  
  
The engines started, and the plane taxied to the end of the runway and turned into the wind. A voice inside of Clayton's head was screaming 'You are leaving her! They will kill her and you are leaving her here alone!' As the engines got louder to prepare for take off, so did the voice. His heart raced, and his hands were damp and started shaking. They had not done that for a long time, he thought. 'She's alone.' The voice cried. 'Clayton, Clayton.' Then it was Amy's voice, calling him 'Clay, Clayton.' As the plane lifted into the air, and the wheels made their last touch with the ground, Clay whispered, 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'  
  
The voice was silent. There was only the sound of the engines, taking him away.  
  
Storage Room  
  
Iraqi Base Camp  
  
Sunrise  
  
When the sun came up, there was light in the room from the window. Amy spent the day, following the patch of light on the floor, thinking that it gave her some warmth. She tried to rest, and also did some floor exercises to keep the blood flowing, and keep warm. She was too bruised, and weak to do too much.   
  
Amy was left alone through the day. She heard activity and voices through the window above, but could not see anything outside. She never heard anyone enter the building she was in either. No one came to hurt her, but no one came to give her any food or water either. She tried to make some escape plans, but knew without any clothes, she would probably die of exposure in the open at night. And there were too many soldiers around to try and sneak out in daylight. Since the ride in the truck, she didn't even know where she was, and wouldn't know which direction to go to find help. Besides she was too weak to do more than move about the small room. No, escape was not going to work right now, not without some help. Would help come? Were Clay, and Harm and Sarah safe and looking for her? She hoped so. But she also knew that she had to keep her wits, had to keep her defenses up. If they got around her defense, she was lost. Name, rank service number. It was such a cliché, she thought, but that was all she was going to give them, no matter what happened.  
  
In the middle of the second night, she heard gunshots, and shouting. Was it the Marines? She held her breath and listened. No, there was some laughing, and cheers. The group that had left with the leader presumably had returned. What were they celebrating? Amy wondered. Please God, they had not picked up any more Marines, or any of her friends. All kinds of images ran through her head, all possible scenarios. Calm down Marine, Amy ordered herself. Deal with facts, what you know for sure. The rest will have to take care of itself. You can't help anyone but yourself.  
  
She listened, but no one came that night.  
  
Andrew's Airforce Base  
  
2316 local time  
  
The flight back to Washington was long and quiet. Harm and Sarah talked in low tones, and slept during the flight. Each of them had come forward and sat with Clay for a little while, tried to get him to talk a little. Clay had successfully moved into sort of a numbed state. He didn't think about anything. Had turned off his imagination, because all it was filled with was visions of Amy being hurt. And he was able to ignore his memory too. No replays of her capture, or what he did or did not do. It was out of his hands, and he felt as empty on the inside, as his hands and arms were now. They were apart, and both helpless. He didn't think about anything really. It was like being asleep with his eyes open. When Sarah and Harm came to try and talk with him, he answered their questions shortly, but politely. 'I'm all right, really. No I'm not hungry. Yes, we will try and piece things together when we get to Washington. There may be a message that the guerillas have made contact, made some demands by the time we land in Washington. Let's hope so....'  
  
This was about the extent of the conversations on the flight back. What Clay could remember of them anyway. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.  
  
They disembarked from the plane, carrying their bags to the parking lot. Harm's car was there, and he was going to drive Sarah home. Clay carried his bag and Amy's to his own car. Harm was very worried about Clay. He had not slept or eaten anything that he could remember since Amy had been captured. What was he surviving on? Harm asked himself. It didn't even seem to be adrenaline, or coffee, for he had not drank anything either. Clay just... seemed to be existing right now. But at this rate, Harm thought, he would end up in the hospital. Harm hated the thought of Clay being alone right now. Some one should keep an eye on him.  
  
'Clay, why don't you come home with me. I'll drop Sarah off, and you can sleep at my place. I'll bunk on the couch.' Harm offered.  
  
'Yes, Clay.' Sarah urged him. 'You shouldn't be alone.'  
  
I'm always alone now, Clay thought. I want to be alone. 'No. I don't want to put you out Harm. Neither one of us need to spend another night on too small a bed. I'll head home. I'll be fine, I just need to sleep in my own bed.' He hoped he sounded convincing to his friends. He did want to be left alone. He was ashamed of himself, and didn't want to be around other people right now. The last place he wanted to go was home to his empty townhouse though, but what else did he have?  
  
'Well, call me later in the morning. Let me know you got some sleep. And eat something, please? We don't need you in the hospital right now. There is work to do, right?' Harm said, trying to give Clay some purpose.  
  
'Right. You are right. I'll call in the morning.' Clay said, and opened his car, and got inside. He watched the others get inside Harm's car, and drive off. They were lucky to have each other now, Clay thought wistfully. The thought of going home almost made him sick. He could go to his mother's. After long or difficult missions, he often went to Great Falls to get over jet lag, and other things. But he couldn't face his mother right now. She was disappointed when she found out he had broken things off with Amy, but she let it go. No, going to his Mother's was not a good idea for now.  
  
He knew where he wanted to go, and decided he didn't care if it was right or wrong. He started his engine, and made his way out of the parking lot.  
  
Amy's Apartment  
  
Georgetown  
  
2350 local time  
  
The keys he still had worked in the security door outside, and the apartment door. He had kept them by mistake, and had wanted to return them to Amy, but as time had gone on, it became too awkward to return them. So he had kept them.  
  
He entered the apartment, and closed the door behind him. The shades were open part way, and light from the street lamp outside came into the living room. The dark shadows suited his mood, and there was enough light to move around. He walked down the hallway to the bedroom with her bag in hand. He opened the door, but could not step inside that room; too many memories. He set the bag on the floor inside, and closed the door again.  
  
Clay walked back to the living room, looking around. Nothing had changed in the months since he had last been here. He didn't know why they should have. Everything was in its place, not cluttered, neat as a pin. Clay saw her quilt loom in the bay window, and walked over to it. He remembered the first time he had seen it, what he had said, and heard her answer echoing back. 'What's this?' he had asked. 'A birdbath. What does it look like?' he said aloud, with a smile on his face remembering. It was the first smile that had crossed his face in days.  
  
The loom did look like a birdbath, but it was missing a bowl.   
  
Hanging over the edge was a new quilt she was working on; dark red and green and white. He could see some of the small stitches, but there was still more to do. Who will finish it now? His mind posed the question. 'She will finish it.' Clay answered aloud, as if saying it would make it so. Clay lifted it up to look at in the street light. How many times had he watched her at this loom? He would work on his computer across the room, and she would sew. Sometimes they had just enjoyed being together, enjoyed the companionship. He unfolded the quilt and filled his empty arms with it. He thought of the times he had cuddled under one of her quilts with her, the nights they had made love cocooned beneath one, warm and soft, sleeping through the night, arms and bodies intertwined.  
  
Suddenly the past few days of fear, frustration and guilt swept over him. Sleep. God, I want to sleep. Escape into the dark. Clay moved over to the couch and lay down. He was asleep in moments, the quilt wrapped around him, and a tear drying on his cheek. 


	5. Captivity

Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date April 2004  
  
This is the fith chapter of what will be many chapters in a series titled: Webb Odyssey. Watch for more chapters under this title or my name. Clayton Webb has become a favorite character with me, and the story really involves him. Enjoy.  
  
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey   
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
See Chapters 1 - 4 for the beginning of the story.  
  
Summary: Amy is in the hands of guerillas, and her friends struggle with the job of waiting for news. It is unclear who is suffering more.  
  
Chapter 5 Webb Odyssey  
  
Captivity  
  
Amy's Apartment  
  
Georgetown  
  
0752 local time  
  
The sun came through the open shades, and hit him full in the face. For a while, he just laid there, enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth, and the soft cushions beneath him. He sighed, stretched and opened his eyes. At first he was confused, thought he was dreaming when he saw the familiar surroundings of Amy's apartment. Then he remembered coming here the night before, and all the terrible reality of the past days came crashing over him. His heart sank back down, and he worked hard to stop the memories, and imagination, from taking over. Gotta put a lid on it if I am ever going to move again, he thought to himself. Can't function if I let my mind go.  
  
And Clay did have to function. He knew that now. But where to start? He looked around, and saw the unfinished quilt wrapped around him. Part of him wanted to stay right here forever, wrapped in her quilt, in her love. But this one wasn't for him, and he didn't deserve her love anymore. She's going to kill me if I ripped anything on this quilt, he thought. I wish she were here now to chew me out. I would welcome the yelling. But it was quiet, and lying here wishing would not help her.  
  
Clay stood up, gently shook out the quilt and folded it back up, and placed in on the loom. He looked around the small apartment, making sure everything was back in its place. Then he moved to the door, and taking one last look around, he promised himself he would not return, until he brought her home himself. Then he closed and locked the door.  
  
He drove himself home, and had to admit, he did feel a little better after a good night's sleep. He showered, shaved, packed a small bag with essentials and drove over to his Mother's home, in Great Falls. It was still sort of his home too, and although he was not sure he was up to facing his mother, and her questions, he did not want to stay alone at his townhouse. Too many people could find him there. He could hide awhile at his Mother's, and he didn't mind admitting that he wanted to hide right now.  
  
When he came into the house, his mother had a few guests. It looked like one of her ladies' committees. She excused herself from her guests, and welcomed Clay with a kiss on the cheek. He liked the feel of her gentle hands on him, and the simple affectionate greeting. 'Hello darling.' She said. 'Come to stay a few days?' she asked.  
  
'Yes, Mother. If its all right with you.' He answered.  
  
'Of course, Clayton. You know you are always welcome.' She assured him with a smile. 'Your room is always ready. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?' She said, taking a more critical look at her son. He looked very tired, worn out really.   
  
'No, not right now. I'll let you get back to your guests. I'll see you at dinner.' He said, and moved toward the stairs to go to his room.  
  
Porter watched him for a minute as he climbed the stairs. He certainly was tried. But maybe there was something more. Well, she thought, she would talk with him later. He will tell her what is wrong, when he is ready.  
  
Clay stayed in his room for a while, but he was restless. He didn't feel like he could sleep anymore, but he was still tired. He came back down stairs, went into the study where the newspapers were laid out. He looked these over, but could not concentrate on any stories. He was relieved to see that Amy's capture had not been reported yet. He was not sure how long that would last. He paced around the study for a while, then came out and wondered around the house some more. Harrison saw him, asked if he wanted anything, but Clay said no, thank you and moved on.  
  
He finally went outside to his mother's garden. It was still winter in Washington, though the calendar said it was spring. The grass was a dull green, and the flowers were still covered for winter. The trees were still bare. A few birds twittered in the bushes and bare trees, but Clay did not hear or see them. The empty gray garden matched how he felt inside, and he settled into chair, and put his feet up on a table. It was not very warm, and all he was wearing was a sweater, and pants, but he didn't feel the cold. He started making plans. How would he research the information they had gathered? Harm and Sarah would have to be interviewed, as well as himself. What did he remember? Could the three of them remember enough to piece together what the leader looked like to have a composite picture drawn? What weapons did they see? Could he tell anything about how well the guerillas were trained? Slowly, carefully, Clay opened the memories he had buried and locked away. He tried to look at them, without the emotions; fear, frustration, loss, and view them objectively. What could he use?  
  
Clay sat quietly in the garden, until dinner.  
  
Storage Room  
  
Iraqi Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
0525 local time  
  
After the sun came up, Amy heard the bolt slide in the door. The leader and four men entered the room. She stood up, with one arm over her chest, the other at her side, trying to show a dignified figure standing in men's boxer shorts. A couple of the men looked at her hungrily. The other two just tried to look anywhere around the room, avoiding her. The leader looked her up and down, like a man ready to pounce, then he focused on her face.  
  
'I am pleased you have survived the cold.' He said.  
  
'I'm touched you were so worried. If you call this winter, your country's weather is as wimpy as its men are.' Amy said with a sneer.  
  
His eyes grew large at this insult, but he kept his anger in check, for now. There was no reaction from the other men. Presumably they didn't understand English.  
  
'Are you ready to answer my questions?' he asked. He pulled Amy's uniform out from behind him, and held it in a ball in front of her.  
  
Amy was tempted, she had to admit. Too many more nights shivering in the dark, seeing her breath would be hard, but she would not give in no matter how blue her hands and feet became.  
  
'What questions are those?' she asked innocently.  
  
His voice rose, 'Where is the Marine base? How many soldiers are there? What are their orders? I will know these things or it will become very hard for you.'   
  
Amy looked him in the eye. 'I will not answer your questions.'   
  
The leader threw down the clothes and came at her. He struck her across the face. When he moved, two of the men moved too, and caught and held her by the arms. The leader punched and struck her several times.  
  
Amy stopped counting the blows, only reacted to them before the next one came. Her attacker paused, as she slumped forward in the men's arms. He grabbed her hair, and pulled back her head so she could see his face.  
  
'Do you want more? Do you think you are some man, playing at being a soldier in men's clothes? Where is the base?' he shouted. 'How many men are there? What weapons do they have?'  
  
Amy's head was reeling, her body ached everywhere, and it hurt to breathe. His shouting came through the fog, and she couldn't think, couldn't remember anything anyway. That's good right? He kept shouting, and his hand and voice were hurting her head more. Amy's marine training kicked in, and without her realizing it she started to talk, just to quiet his pounding voice. 'Harris, Amelia, Major, United States Marine Corps. Service number 612472884.'  
  
His knee came up and connected with her head. He gave his men orders and all four came at her, with rifles and clubs. They struck her back, her legs, her arms and shoulders. She tried to curl up to protect her head and front of her body, but the blows kept coming.  
  
The leader shouted again and they stopped. He knelt down beside her, turned her over roughly and put his face next to hers to whisper to her. 'We are not finished, you and I. I will be back and it will only get worse for you. Answer my questions and we will give you all you need; food, water, a blanket, medical help. We will release you; you may go home. Just tell me what I want to know.'  
  
Amy understood him. His voice pierced through the pain with the promise of comfort and help. But she knew it was empty. She was weak, and in pain, she didn't know what to do. She couldn't answer, only a sigh escaped her lips.  
  
'I will return soon.' The voice promised.   
  
Webb Residence  
  
Great Falls, VA  
  
1930 local time  
  
Porter Webb sat quietly across the dining room table from her son. They had exchanged some words, but nothing Porter would consider a conversation. She had asked Harrison earlier if Clay had eaten anything since arriving, and Harrison had said no, not that he knew of.  
  
Clay sat at the table, toying with his food, and staring at the plate, but he was really, very far away. 'The salmon not to your liking, Clay?' she asked. He was startled by her voice, more evidence that he was somewhere else, but he recovered quickly. 'No, everything is delicious, Mother.' He said.  
  
To convince her, he took two bites, dutifully chewed and swallowed them, and took a sip of wine. Be careful, he told himself. She is watching very carefully. I'm not ready to get into this right now.  
  
Porter watched as Clay ate some of the salmon, and thought that it looked like a chore for him to eat. Something was wrong, and she could tell he was hurting. She could not detect any physical injuries, so it was something else. Something a bandage was not going to reach.  
  
'You know Clayton,' she began. 'Your father often came home after particularly difficult missions, and would pace around the house for a while. Eventually he would open up to me and tell me what was bothering him, without giving away any national secrets. Usually it was after we made love.'  
  
'Mother...' he said with some distaste in his voice, and on his face.  
  
Porter smiled. Finally, she got a reaction from him, even if it was negative. 'I know children don't like to think of their parents that way. Even adult children, but we loved each other Clayton, and we shared things. Your father trusted me, and he was able to talk to me. Sometimes it didn't even matter if I had the whole story. It was a chance for him to get things out in the open, share the burden with someone else. It helped.' She paused, and looked at his sad face. He wanted to say something, but it seemed he didn't know how. 'You know you can trust me, don't you?'  
  
'Yes, I know I can. You are one of the only people I trust without question, Mother.' He said.  
  
'Then what is it? What is troubling you so much darling? I can see you are hurting, and that hurts me.' She said, trying to urge him to open up.  
  
'I should be hurting Mother.' He said, anger creeping into his voice. 'It's my fault. It should have been me, but here I sit,' a sad, unbelieving smile crossed his face, 'in this lovely home, eating salmon and sipping wine.' He looked around him saying these words, viewing the food and the beautiful dining room he had known all his life, with disgust.   
  
'What kind of man am I? I use my friends. I put them in danger, and get them killed.' He stopped there, putting his hand over his mouth to stop any other confessions from escaping. He clenched his teeth, tried to hold back the tears. He had finally realized that it wasn't only guilt, and frustration he had been feeling, it was hate. Self-loathing. What kind of man was he indeed to put the woman he loved in danger, and leave her alone to die?  
  
He took a deep breath, and swallowed back the tears, cleared the lump from his throat. Looking up, he saw his mother was fighting tears too. Tears of sympathy for him, tears for another death. He had now dumped this mess on her, and he hated himself for that too. 'I'm sorry Mother.' He said quietly. He wanted to reassure her, but had nothing left inside himself to offer. He pushed his chair back from the table, balled up his napkin and slapped it on the table. He stood and left the room. 'Good night Mother.'  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
0800 local time  
  
Harm Rabb made his way to his office. It was his first day back since coming home from Iraq, and he was ready to get to work, and find out if there was any news on Amy. He had talked with Sarah a couple of times the day before, as they both were in their own homes trying to get over jet lag. It had been a very long day for Harm. He kept going over and over again in his mind the attack, and tried to remember every detail so he would have something to contribute to help find Amy. He was afraid it would be very little.  
  
As he exited the elevator, the office was quiet. He saw everyone was in the bullpen, watching something on the TV monitor. As he came around the corner, he looked up to see what had grabbed everyone's attention, and there she was. A picture of Amy, a formal portrait, the kind in full dress uniform, with the flag in the background. There was a small smile on her face, and her big brown eyes twinkled. It looked like it was a couple years old. Her hair was different, shorter. It must have been taken when she made major. Seeing her face smiling down at him took his breath away. Then the picture changed to the ZNN reporter, Chuck DePalma. Harm started listening,'...no word yet as to who is holding Major Harris, or what exactly a major assigned with the Office of Home Land Security was doing in a communications truck in Northern Iraq, but the fact remains, she is listed today as missing in action.'  
  
The picture changed again, to a man, same brown hair and brown eyes as Amy's, but there was no twinkle here. He looked sad, and worried. The name typed under his face identified him as Peter Harris, DVM, Brother. He was standing in front of a white house, with a big screened in porch, which had a US flag proudly hanging on the doorpost. At the end of the flagpole, a yellow ribbon was waving in the breeze. 'We of course hope that she is all right. She is a strong, and stubborn Marine, proud to serve her country. We ask everyone to keep her in their thoughts and prayers.' The TV went back to the reporter. 'That was Major Harris' brother who earlier today made a short statement from the family farm in Wisconsin. Her father was not available. We will be watching this story closely, and will report new developments as they happen. For ZNN, I'm Chuck DePalma, now, back to you Lynn, in the studio.'  
  
Harm had seen enough. Now, the whole world knew. As he turned to head for his office, he noticed that Sarah had arrived, and was watching the report also. She still looked so tired, and worried. He wanted so much to gather her in his arms, and make everything all right. But he couldn't. Not here; and though he had hopes, he wasn't sure everything would be all right. They both nodded to each other, and made their way to their separate offices. As Sarah entered hers, Harm saw that Harriet had followed her in, and closed the door. Maybe Harried could offer some comfort. Harm was glad she was there for Sarah.  
  
As Harm entered his office, Bud followed him, asking, 'Isn't that Major Harris an old friend of Colonel MacKenzie's?'  
  
'Yes, Bud.' Harm answered.  
  
'Sir, I'm sure you can't talk about your latest trip...but if you need to talk to someone, well, I'm here, Sir.' Bud offered. He didn't know what was going on for sure, but he could guess. He wasn't being nosey, just wanted to offer support.  
  
'Thanks, Bud.' Harm said. 'I appreciate that.'  
  
At this, Jennifer Coates pocked her head around Harm's office door. 'Welcome back Commander.' She said. 'The Admiral would like to see you and Colonel MacKenzie in his office ASAP, Sir.'  
  
'Thanks, Jennifer, I'm on my way.' Harm got up, and left his office. As he walked passed her door, Sarah and Harriet both emerged from Sarah's office, wiping tears from their eyes. Sarah looked at Harm, nodded, took a deep breath, and walked with him to the Admiral's office.   
  
They opened the door at his order, 'Enter'. Harm let Sarah go in first, then he followed, and closed the door behind him, without being told.  
  
The Admiral barely waited for the door to close before he began. 'I don't care if it's classified for the President's eyes only, tell me what happened out there.' He demanded.  
  
Harm answered him. 'The op was going smoothly enough, but we were not gathering too much Intel on the group, we couldn't find them. Then they just...found us, or more accurately found the truck with Amy inside. We had not planned for the numbers or amount of weapons they had with them. We were stuck on the hillside above, and could do nothing. If we made our presence known they would either have caught all four of us, or killed all of us.' Harm tried to explain. It seemed a cold description of what happened.  
  
The Admiral continued for him. 'If all four of you were taken, CIA would have disavowed all of you, and you'd be left high and dry. As it is, they are trying to use the Iraqi Provisional Government to find her and negotiate a release.' He paused, then finally said under his breath, 'This whole thing stinks.'   
  
The three of them sat a moment in silence, then the Admiral asked another question. 'This Webb's fault?'  
  
'No, Sir.' Sarah answered. 'He feels terrible, and responsible, but...it's not anyone's fault Sir. There is no one to blame in situations like this.'  
  
The Admiral nodded. He knew enough about combat that it was a waste of time trying to lay blame. Just try and fix the problem.  
  
The Admiral was reluctant to bring up the next subject. But, maybe some good news would help today. 'I have something else to discuss with you two. I wish I could have told you on a happier day, but... I have secured a new position...for you Commander.' He said looking at Harm.  
  
Harm and Sarah had held their breaths while he said this. They both knew this day would come, when one of them would leave JAG, so that they could be together in their private life. It was what they both wanted, but it was still a hard pill to swallow. Harm looked a little surprised, then glanced at Sarah, and back at the Admiral. 'Where am I going Sir?'  
  
'You will be attached to the office of the Secretary of the Navy.' The Admiral stated. Harm's look of surprise deepened, but he let the Admiral continue. 'The Sec Nave was very impressed with how you handled his defense at The Hague. He feels that he will have need of legal expertise in the future in international law, as more work is done with coalition forces around the world. He thinks you are the perfect choice. He has said you may finish up any cases you are currently working on, then report to his office.' The Admiral looked at Harm and Sarah. He wasn't sure what their reaction would be, but he had not expected silence.  
  
Harm was both happy and sad at the news. Working for the Sec Nave would keep him in the Washington area, so he and Sarah could be together. He would still be in law, but it was hard to leave JAG. Of all the times he had left this office, thinking never to come back, he knew this one was the real thing.  
  
Sarah was stunned. She didn't know what to think. It was great news, but the reality of not seeing Harm everyday at the office; of sparing with him in the courtroom finally sank in, and she was saddened that this part of their lives together was over.  
  
The Admiral finally continued. 'This position will keep you in D.C., I thought that was what you wanted.'  
  
'It is a wonderful opportunity, Admiral, and I think you for your help.' Harm said sincerely.  
  
The Admiral smiled. I guess I better let the other shoe drop, he thought. 'There is one more thing, Commander. The Sec Nav does have some items for you to look into right away, but he doesn't foresee that this position would be full time all the time. When he doesn't need you, you will be expected to be in this office, working on cases, representing clients, and investigating problems on behalf of JAG and the Sec Nav's office. So, you are not getting out of here completely. Sorry.' AJ said with a smirk.   
  
Smiles broke out on both their faces at that statement. Lightening had struck twice. Harm would work as part of the Sec Nav's office, and could spend some of his time right here, at JAG, at home. They both said together, 'Thank you, Sir.' 'Thank you, Admiral, we appreciate your help.'  
  
The Admiral was serious again. 'Now I expect you both to conduct yourselves as officers, with decorum and restraint here in the office. Or I will make other arrangements with the Sec Nav.'  
  
'Yes, Sir.' 'Yes, Admiral' they answered.  
  
'That is all I have. Dismissed.' The Admiral said. Both officers snapped to attention and answered 'Aye Aye, Sir.' Then turned to leave. 'One more thing.' The Admiral said. 'Let me know any news you hear about Major Harris.'   
  
'We will, Sir.' Harm answered, and left the office.   
  
As soon as the door closed behind him, he took Sarah in his arms and swung her in a circle, as she laughed and held on. 'Harm, stop. I don't think this is what the Admiral had in mind when he said decorum and restraint.'  
  
Harm set her down and looked into her eyes. 'Marry me Sarah. Now, today. We can get blood tests and call Sturgeon's father to do the ceremony.' He was so happy, he couldn't stop. He wanted to start their life together that minute.  
  
Sarah could stop however. She was happy too, but said. 'No Harm. I couldn't. Not until we know about Amy. I'm sorry, I...just couldn't.'  
  
'Of course.' Harm said. 'I'm sorry. You're right. When we do know though, I am getting you the biggest rock, and widest band I can find and put them on your finger, and never allow you to take them off.'   
  
'You have a deal fly boy.' Sarah smiled.  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by a 'Ahem' from behind. It was Jennifer Coates. 'Commander,' she said 'there is Porter Webb on the phone for you. Line 2.'  
  
Harm and Sarah exchanged looks, and started toward Harm's office. 'I'll take it Jennifer, thanks.'  
  
When they had both sat down in Harm's office, he picked up line 2, and put it on speakerphone. 'Hello Mrs. Webb. I'm here with Colonel MacKenzie. I was going to call this morning. Have you talked to Clay in the past couple of days?'  
  
Porter Webb's voice came over the speaker, 'Clayton arrived here yesterday, and asked to stay a couple of days. But, no Commander, I couldn't say that I have really talked to him. I know he came back from a mission, and something is bothering him. Then I saw the news this morning about Major Harris. Was Clayton involved with what Major Harris was working on in Northern Iraq?' She asked, though she was pretty sure of the answer.  
  
'We all were involved, Ma'am.' Harm said sadly.  
  
'What can you tell me Commander?' Mrs. Webb asked.  
  
Harm began, 'Without going into details, Clay asked the Colonel, Major Harris and myself to help him with some Intel gathering. We were ambushed. We were not prepared for their numbers, or amount of weapons they had with them. Major Harris was at the wrong place at the wrong time. There was nothing we could do but watch. Clay was ready to give up his life for Major Harris, but...I stopped him Ma'am. I thought he would only be killed, or get all of us killed.'  
  
'You did the right thing Commander. Thank you for saving my son's life.' The motherly voice came over the phone.  
  
'Yes, Ma'am, but it may have cost Major Harris her life.' Harm paused here. Not knowing what else to say.  
  
'Were you able to look for her?' Mrs. Webb asked.  
  
'Only one day. We were not able to find any sign of Amy, or the guerillas.' Harm answered. 'Then we were all ordered home.'  
  
'Clayton blames himself. He thinks Major Harris is dead. Was there anything else you could have done, do you think?'  
  
Sarah answered this one. 'No Ma'am. No one is to blame. We did as much as we could.'  
  
Mrs. Webb asked. 'Do you think she is alive? Do you think an agreement can be reached?'  
  
'We hope so, Mrs. Webb.' Harm said. 'How is Clay?' he asked.  
  
'Devastated.' Mrs. Webb said. 'He blames himself. He doesn't eat, and hasn't slept. I'm worried about him.' She stopped here. It was a hard question to ask, but she had to know. 'Does he still love Amy, do you think?'  
  
'I am sure he does.' Harm confirmed.  
  
They all sat quietly for a moment. Then Mrs. Webb said. 'I won't take up anymore of your time Commander. Thank you for your help. Please keep me informed if you hear anything about Major Harris.'  
  
'I will Ma'am. And please, have Clay give us a call. We want to know how he is doing.'  
  
'I will Commander. I'm glad my son has friends like you and the Colonel. He will need all of us right now.' And she hung up the line.  
  
Webb Residence  
  
Great Falls, VA  
  
0909 local time  
  
Porter Webb hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. Poor Clayton. Living his worst nightmare. She knew a little how this felt, but Clayton was also blaming himself for what happened. It will take a long time for him to see the truth that he did all he could. She decided that ready or not, he had to talk about it for his own good. She stood up, and walked to his room upstairs.  
  
Clayton was up, and packing his bag, preparing to leave. Porter thought he still looked pale and tired, but not as depressed as he had yesterday. He seemed to be moving with a little more purpose. The small TV was on, tuned into the news. They were reporting on committee meetings that were scheduled on The Hill that day.  
  
'You leaving Clayton?' she asked her son.  
  
'Yes' he answered, not looking up from packing. 'Its time I got back to work.'   
  
'Clayton, I wish you would tell me what happened out there.' At this, he stopped what he was doing and turned to look at his mother, but he still didn't answer her. He didn't know how. 'I've seen the news reports.' Porter continued, 'And I talked to Commander Rabb.'   
  
'I wish you hadn't done that Mother.' He said, and went back to his packing.  
  
'Which? Seen the news, or talk to Commander Rabb?' she asked.  
  
'Either' he said.  
  
'Clayton stop and look at me.' She demanded. He was still her son, and he did what he was told. 'Talk to me Clayton.'  
  
'You said you've seen the news. They have most of the story right. They left out the part about the inept planning and cowardice of the mission commander playing a part in her capture.'  
  
Porter interrupted him 'Stop it. It's not your fault.'  
  
'It is Mother' he almost shouted. 'It should have been me.'  
  
'You do still love her.' He turned away at this statement. He didn't want his mother to see how right she was.   
  
Porter stepped closer to him. 'You have such a big heart, Clay, why do you bury it behind so many walls?' she asked him. 'Clayton, as much as you may want to, you can not protect those you love from everything bad in this world. That would be impossible. Amy didn't expect you to I'm sure. She loved you, and would have wanted you to be safe as much as you wanted her to be safe.'  
  
Clay smiled at this, but the smile did not reach his eyes. It brought back the memory of the last words he heard Amy say to him. Stay where you are, there are too many of them. She did save him, Harm and Sarah too. 'Amy did want me to stay safe.' He said out loud as he realized his mother was right.  
  
Porter stepped closer, and put her arms around her son. 'I knew she would. When she gets home, remind me to thank her.' Porter hoped with all her heart she could thank Amy face to face, as much for Amy's sake, as for Clayton's.  
  
Clayton pulled away from his mother so he could look at her. 'I will call you if I hear anything.'  
  
'Call me anytime darling.' She said, with emphasis on 'anytime'. She wanted him to know she would be here for him.  
  
'I love you' he whispered around the lump in his throat.  
  
'I love you too.' She told him. 'Call Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie. They are worried about you.'  
  
'I will.' he promised, and turning, grabbed his bag, and left.  
  
Storage Room  
  
Iraqi Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraq  
  
Amy didn't know how long she lay unconscience on the dirt floor. She was stiff with cold, and it hurt to move even the tiniest part of her. She forced her eyes open, and saw that night had fallen again. How long ago? Was it early night, or close to dawn? The moon was shining in her window, from its light she could see her breath pluming from her mouth, and her body began again to shake uncontrollably with cold. She looked around the room but she was still alone. Her uniform still lay in a heap on the floor. She closed her eyes and thanked God for small miracles.   
  
Slowly she stretched herself out, and tried to reach the clothes, but they were too far away. She had to push with her legs and slide closer to them. Every movement awoke more pain in her body as she inched across the floor, but finally she reached them. She pushed herself up onto one arm, and wrapped the jacket around her. She thought, maybe I will make it now. Over the next few minutes she slid the pants over her legs and up to her waist. She didn't have the energy to button or zip them; she left that for later. Exhausted, she lay back on the floor, and let the dark overtake her again.  
  
Hours later, Amy heard crying, and realized it was her. She was crying, and didn't have the strength to stop the tears. 'Clay. Where are you? Please be safe, and come find me.' She cried.  
  
Then she heard the bolt move in the door. They were back. Two men came over to her, and rolled her flat on her back, pulling her arms apart and holding her down.  
  
Then he came in. He moved on top of her, and put his knee on her chest. He asked his questions. She didn't even acknowledge his asking anymore. She couldn't breath. He was choking her. The pain in her body was blinding her. The same words were going over and over again in her head. Can't tell. Don't tell. 'Harris, Major, USMC.' She thought the words were coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't sure anymore.  
  
He held up a club in one hand. She saw his face. Knew he was going to hit her with it. She would die now if he hit her on the head with the club. Sarah, Harm and Clay's faces flashed in front of her eyes. I hope you are safe, her heart whispered.  
  
Then the club came down. She moved her head to the side. The pain exploded, hot and searing on her arm. The club came down again, smashing her arm again.  
  
He was screaming, or was she? The other men still held her down. Her throat was raw; no more sound came out. The weight on her chest came off. She took a deep breath, and there was more pain. She tried to move her arm, but it was as if it wasn't there, except the pain was there. She rolled over on that side, to try and protect it. Then everything went black.  
  
CIA Headquarters  
  
Langley, VA  
  
1300 local time  
  
Clayton Webb made his way to his office, not looking at anyone or acknowledging any greeting along the way. He just wanted to get to his office, and begin working. Maybe if they could make some progress somewhere in this case, he could feel like he was doing something helpful. He had to do something.  
  
He made it to his office, and sat down at his desk. The first thing he saw was the picture of Amy smiling at him from behind pink sweetheart roses. Having her look at him from that picture, so alive and so happy, it drained all the strength he had stored up over the past few hours. Tears came to his eyes, and caught in his throat. He quickly put the picture in a drawer.  
  
He opened his briefcase, and there was her cap. The one she had lost that night. The blood had dried to a brown blotch. He opened the drawer, and put the cap beside the picture.  
  
He turned on the small TV he had in his office that he used for news updates. ZNN was showing Amy's service picture again, reporting that there was no word from the Pentagon as to why a Marine Major assigned with the Office of Home Land Security was in Northern Iraq, or how she ended up on the list of officers missing in action.  
  
Clay turned the TV off, and rubbed his eyes. Coming back to work may have been a bad idea.  
  
After a couple of minutes of sitting quietly, pulling himself together, he went back to his briefcase, pulled out his laptop and began the task of plugging it in. He thought he could at least begin his post-mission report, organize some thoughts and try to write down all he remembered seeing that night.  
  
Clay worked a few hours; not realizing how much time had passed. No one called, or came into his office to disturb him.  
  
After a while, Clay noticed the clock on his computer, and realized that hours had gone by, without his noticing. He stretched, and decided he was actually hungry. He left his office and went to the building's cafeteria. He bought a cup of coffee and a bagel sandwich, and brought them back up to his office. He ate most of the sandwich while he reread what he had written for his report so far. As he was reading, he heard a familiar voice. 'Clay?'  
  
'Harm, come in.' Clay was glad to see Harm. 'I meant to call you, but time slipped away on me. What brings you here?'  
  
Harm entered Clay's office, and sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. 'Your boss, Stillman called me in to talk with a couple of agents. I answered their questions. I hope there is something there that will help.' Harm said seriously.  
  
Clay nodded. He hoped so too. 'Have you been debriefed Clay?' Harm asked.  
  
'Not yet. Have they talked to Sarah too?'  
  
'No' Harm said. 'Though Stillman said he would be calling her in soon.' Harm looked critically at Clay for a minute. Noticed the dark circles under eyes that seemed a little dull and glassy. He saw the remains of the bagel sandwich. 'See you are finally eating.'  
  
'Yeah. My mother tried to temp me with all my favorites. Unfortunately the Blue Crab season hasn't started yet.' Clay said, referring to the Maryland Blue Crab, which was his particular favorite, and only available in the summer time.  
  
There was another lull in the conversation. Clay asked Harm, carefully. 'You...ah, haven't heard any thing have you?'  
  
'No, nothing. You?'  
  
Clay shook his head. They both sat thinking of Amy. Harm broke the silence with the question he had to ask, but hated to bring up. 'What do you think are her chances Clay?'  
  
Clay looked his friend in the eye, and gave him the truth; nothing else would do now. 'Not very good anymore. It was wishful thinking on the part of the Iraqi's that anyone would be contacted. All we an hope for anymore is that we find a body so her father and brother have something to bury.' And me too, Clay thought, but to think that made him physically ill.  
  
'How can you say that? How can you be so cold?' Harm demanded.  
  
'I'm being practical.' Clay shot back. 'I hope she is dead, then they can't hurt her anymore.' Clay's words hung in the air between them. Neither knew what to say.  
  
Clay finally continued. 'You don't know what it is like. To have your world turned to pain. To feel like your head was going to explode, and you wish it would so the pain would stop.'  
  
Harm wasn't sure if Clay was talking about the pain he had experienced under torture, or the pain he saw in his friend's eyes right now. But Harm asked 'Why torture her at all? What information could she give them?' He was grasping at anything to try and reassure himself and Clay, give them a little hope.  
  
'We spent four days in that Marine camp. You saw things the guerillas would find useful, so did Amy. Things like the number of Marines, their weapons, and equipment. Amy was also in the communications room. She knows what weapons could be brought in by radio, how far away they were. She could tell them a lot.'  
  
'But she wouldn't.' Harm insisted. 'Amy is a tough Marine, a smart woman.'   
  
'You are right, she won't talk, and that will get her killed.' Clay stated coldly. 'I wish it had been me. It should have been me.' He looked up at Harm. 'You were right on the plane. I still love Amy, and wanted to be with her. I wanted to...try and be friends. I missed her.' He said quietly. 'I was selfish, and I got her killed.'  
  
'Stop it Clay.' Harm insisted. 'I wouldn't listen to this. Doesn't do this to yourself.' He kept looking at Clay, but Clay would not look at him. 'I was right on the plane.' Harm said. 'Amy still loves you. She is counting on us and I for one am not giving up hope. Not yet. I believe in her, and you should too.' Clay looked back at him at that statement. Harm had hit a nerve. Amy was still counting on him. He had to keep working, keep hoping for her sake.  
  
Harm let that sink in, then changed the subject. He decided he needed a break, and thought Clay needed one too. 'Why don't you come over to my place, I'll cook dinner.' Harm offered.   
  
'Why is everyone so concerned about what I eat and whether I sleep or not?' Clay demanded.  
  
'You look like hell, Clay, that's why.' Harm answered him. 'Not to put too fine a point on it.' He added jokingly to soften the blow. Harm stood up and turned to leave the office. 'I won't take no for an answer, and will expect you by 1900.' He ordered. Before he stepped out of the door, he turned and pointed a long index finger at Clay. 'You bring the beer.'  
  
Clay nodded assent, and Harm was happy to see he had put a smile, even if it was a small one, on his friend's face.  
  
Storage Room  
  
Iraqi Base Camp  
  
Northern Iraqi  
  
She woke up once, had tried to move but couldn't, and the pain woke her up. It was night again. How much time had gone by?   
  
Amy's arm throbbed with every heartbeat. Her head pounded. Each breath caused a stabbing pain in her chest.   
  
Let it end now, here, she prayed. I'm sorry for all my sins, and hope every Marine is safe. Let Sarah and Harm and Clay all be safe too. Let Clay know I love him. Give him peace.  
  
At dawn they made their way down the stairs to the room one more time. He had to get something from her. He was amazed this woman had lasted this long. But she must die now. They had to move on, and she would not survive the trip. She could die when she wanted to. He would leave the timing to Allah, but he had to try one more thing to get some useful information from her.  
  
He ordered the men to take off her jacket, and hold her arms out to the side. They held her up in a kneeing position. Surprisingly she was still alive, and almost conscience. All the better, he thought.  
  
While the men pulled her arms out from her, she let out a quiet groan of pain. He knew she would at least hear him, this last time. He came up to her, and whispered in her ear. 'This is your last chance. Tell me what I want to know and I will kill you quickly. The pain will end, and you may go to meet your God. Or, I will make your end full of pain, and anguish.'  
  
Amy heard him, and wished she could shout her answer, use her strongest voice, but she had no breath, no strength. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. 'Nothing.' She swallowed past the pain and tears. 'Tell you nothing.'  
  
He was almost glad she was defiant to the end. He admired courage. 'Then you will die now. Any last words?' he asked.  
  
The words barely came out to be heard. 'Tell Webb I won.' That struck her as funny, and she smiled at the thought of Clay being proud of what she had done. She had won, she had betrayed no one, at least she hoped so. She hoped Clay and the others were safe. She would be safe too, soon.  
  
As she smiled, his smiled faded, and his anger returned. She had won. Had endured all he tried to do and not only survived, but prevailed over him by giving away nothing. This woman; he would show her how they treated defiant women in Iraq. He moved behind her, and prepared to kill her with as much pain as possible. He brought the short riding whip around, over his head, and struck her. He was rewarded when he heard her groan, saw her twitch, and see the tiny stripe appear on her back, drops of blood forming along the welt.   
  
'One.' he growled.  
  
Soup 'n Subs Restaurant  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
1231 local time  
  
Sarah made her way to the sandwich shop where she had arranged to meet Clay for lunch. She had talked to him on the phone, but this was the first time since coming back from Iraq days ago, that she was able to meet with Clay and see how he was doing. She was a little nervous about what to say to him. Harm had said Clay was very down, blaming himself, and very worried about Amy. They all were. Sarah hoped they could help one another, give each other some hope.  
  
She arrived first. She went through the cafeteria line getting her food and found a table in the back. Just as she was sitting down, she saw Clay coming toward the table. He must have been right behind me in line she thought. Clay had a sandwich and a cup of coffee on his tray. He wasn't very hungry, but knew he had to keep eating. They greeted each other and sat down.  
  
'So Clay,' Sarah began, but he cut her off.  
  
'Please don't ask me how I am doing. I hate trying to answer that question these days.'  
  
She nodded her understanding, and started eating. 'Have you heard anything?' she asked around a mouthful of ham and cheese.  
  
That was another question Clay hated to have to answer these days. He tried to give Sarah an answer 'There is very little news coming out right now. They still haven't found any trace of the insurgent group, but they are still looking. There hasn't been any activity in the area either. I don't know if that is good or bad. There is less of a chance of finding her alive I'm afraid, each day that goes by.' He didn't add that as each hour goes by, it was harder for him to keep his hopes up.  
  
They ate quietly for a moment, then Clay looked up at Sarah and asked. 'Usually I don't put much...I mean, I have a hard time believing...'  
  
Sarah looked at Clay quizzically, 'What are you trying to say Clay?'  
  
'Sarah, have you...seen...anything? Do you know if she is even...alive? Can you tell?' Clay was afraid of the answer, but he wanted the truth. Harm and Sarah both had told him at different times how Sarah had 'seen' Harm when he had crashed at sea, and how she had 'seen' Chloe too when she was lost. Maybe she could see where Amy was, or whether she was alive.  
  
Sarah looked down at the table. She had tried, before they left Iraq, and since coming home. 'No Clay. I have not seen Amy or have a sense of where she might be, or if she is still alive.' She paused, her heart sinking as she saw one more flicker of hope fade from his eyes. 'But that doesn't mean anything has happened to her. It's not a bad thing, just, I haven't seen anything.'  
  
'I was just wondering.' Clay said, and finally took a bite of his own sandwich. 'Thanks for trying, and thanks for talking about her in the present tense. Not too many people do right now.'  
  
Sarah tried to reassure him. 'Clay she will be all right. She is strong. You have to believe she is still alive.'  
  
'I don't know Sarah.'   
  
'I won't believe she is dead.' Sarah insisted. 'And neither should you. Don't give up all hope.' Sarah took a good look at Clay. She knew he was hurting, and didn't know what to say. 'You know, Amy wouldn't like to see you like this, or hear you talk like this.'  
  
'No. She probably wouldn't.' Clay agreed. It felt good to talk about Amy as if she was still with them. Not locked away some where far away, but maybe just around the corner. It gave his mind and heart a rest from the worry and guilt. Sarah was right; Amy would not like the way he was acting. Not taking care of himself, not having any hope. He wanted to continue, play the little game of what if, even if it was only for a little while. 'What would she say do you think?'  
  
Sarah thought a minute, a sly smile spreading across her face at the thought of what her friend would say. 'Amy would probably make a joke, sort of yell at you. Something like...' Sarah changed her voice, as if Amy was talking to Clay. 'Get over yourself Webb. You aren't Super Spook you know. Can't save everyone.'  
  
Clay smiled at this. 'Yeah, that sounds like her.'  
  
Sarah continued. 'The first time you two met here in Washington, with all of us at McGlinty's Pub.' Clay nodded remembering. Sarah went on. 'She said, I know he's a spook, he practically has CIA tattooed to his forehead.' They both smiled at that.  
  
'A tattoo like that wouldn't help much in the field' Clay laughed. 'Her spook radar was good though. It could have been handy in the field.' Then he stopped abruptly. He had just spoke of Amy in the past tense, as if she was really gone. A cold shiver went down his back.  
  
Sarah noticed too. Clay looked at her across the table, then down at his lunch, and let the moment pass.  
  
'Clay stop blaming yourself.' Sarah urged him, taking a hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze. 'Bad things happen, and we can't stop them. We just have to keep hoping. Amy has to be all right.'  
  
Sarah remembered something else. 'Before we went up the hill, I saw you talking with her.' Sarah knew this was the last time any of them had talked to Amy face to face. 'What were you talking about?'  
  
Clay had not thought of that conversation since that night. 'I asked her if she would be all right.'  
  
'And what did she say?'  
  
Clay smiled, remembering, 'She said...' He paused, wanted to remember her exact words, knowing how important they were now. 'She said...I'll be fine Clay. Don't worry about me.'  
  
He had been looking far away, as if he could see her face as she said the words. Then he looked back at Sarah. She was smiling too. 'Listen to her Clay. Hold on to that.'  
  
A few days later  
  
Clayton Webb's Townhouse  
  
Alexandria, VA  
  
0140 local time  
  
Clayton Webb was running. He was out of breath, his heart pumping, sweat covered his body, he could barely put one foot in front of the other, but he kept running.   
  
She was calling him. Amy's voice was crying out his name in the darkness. 'Clayton....Clayton I'm here....Clayton please...Come find me.' She needed him. Needed his help. He had to get to her, but he didn't know where she was. Somewhere ahead of him, in the darkness.  
  
He came to a door. He pushed it open, she was there, a crumpled form on the floor. He stepped to her, 'Amy' he called. 'Its me. Clayton, I'm here.' He reached her, turned her over, then.... She disappeared. The room was empty. And he heard her calling, crying again. 'Clay....Please...'  
  
'I'm coming. Hold on Amy.' And he started running again. More doors, more crumpled forms, on the floor, tied to a chair, secured to a wooden cot. Each time he reached the form, they disappeared, and he was forced to run again. Searching, calling her name. 'Amy. Amy I'm coming. Hold on. Amy!'  
  
Clayton sat bolt upright in his bed. He was home, his townhouse. It was dark. Amy's name was echoing back at him from his bedroom walls. He put his head in his hands, and sat in bed until his breathing calmed, and his heartbeat went back to normal. As his body relaxed, he started shaking. He had to force himself to practice the relaxing exercises he had been taught after his time in Paraguay. Lately, the shaking had returned more often. He knew it was because of the worry, the stress, and nightmares of Amy.   
  
Sometimes she was with him in Paraguay. She was the one connected to the battery, or she was in a prison behind walls impossibly large, and he couldn't get to her. Or, one like tonight. He was searching and came close to finding her, only to loose her again.  
  
He got out of bed, put on his robe and walked in the kitchen. He wanted to fix himself a good stiff drink, maybe several. But alcohol only made the nightmares worse, and the shaking last longer. He pulled out the little kettle, filled it with milk and warmed it up on the stove. His mother had given him warm milk as a child when he had nightmares of his father. Amy had done this task for him too when they were together and he had woke up in the night in the grip of a nightmare. She always added a little vanilla too. He did this for himself now, remembering how she always made him tell her about the dream, then how she held him until the shaking stopped and he fell asleep with her arms...He couldn't think about that now. His milk ready, he poured it into a mug, and walked out to the living room. He didn't turn on any lights. He just opened the shades and let in the light from the street. He wanted to hide in the dark, and let his feelings run free where no one would see. He looked out his window at the quiet neighborhood. No one else was up with lights on. He took a drink of the milk and it warmed him, even comforted him a little. He thought he might be able to go back to bed, and sleep again eventually. He had to try. He hadn't slept a full night since...  
  
He took another sip form his mug. Maybe some music. He sat down at his piano. When he was recovering from his nerve damage, it was hard to play, to get his hands to follow the commands from his brain. But slowly his music had come back. He and Amy had spent many hours at his piano. She would sing and he would play. She knew every Broadway song, all the old ones anyway. She especially liked Rogers and Hammerstein. Her voice was beautiful, light and high. She could fill the room and send the notes to the stars.   
  
She also loved West Side Story. He had bought the sheet music after they had watched the movie together, and she had sung all of Maria's parts, better than Natalie Wood, or so Clay thought. Not that he was bias or anything, he thought to himself and smiled, as he struck a chord on the keys. Remembering her voice, singing sweetly beside him, the words meant for him.   
  
'Today, all day I had the feeling,  
  
A miracle would happen,  
  
I knew now I was right,  
  
For here you are....  
  
He stopped playing. He couldn't go on, couldn't hold it in anymore. He missed her. He had killed her. She was gone, and it was his fault. The emptiness and guilt overwhelmed him and the silent sobs came out. Tears streamed down his cheeks, the cries wracked his body. 'Please God' he prayed aloud. 'Send me a miracle. Give her a miracle. I love her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever pushed her away or made go over there.  
  
He had slumped over, hanging his head on his arms on the piano. When all the sobs had pasted, he lifted his head, and saw the tears on the keys. His heart seemed lighter somehow. The weight didn't seem so heavy on his shoulders. He wiped the tears from his face, and on the piano. Gulped down the last of the milk and left the mug on the kitchen counter. He made his way back to his bed, and fell into it exhausted. 'Please God. Please God.' Was on his lips as he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.  
  
End of Chapter 5  
  
Sorry. Chapter 6 on the way soon. 


	6. Finding Amy

Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date May 2004  
  
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey   
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
See Chapters 1 - 5 for the beginning of the story.  
  
Summary: Amy has been found, and Clay leaves to be with her. But after all she has been through, will the two of them have a chance at a life together?  
  
Chapter 6 Webb Odyssey  
  
CIA Headquarters  
  
Langley, VA  
  
2117 hours local time  
  
Director of Operations - Middle East, Marcus Stillman was walking down the hallway on the way to an agent's office. At this hour of the night, Langley was pretty quiet, but this was a government building, and it was never completely quiet. He wasn't sure if the agent would still be here, but Director Stillman had to check. He had some news, and it was the type of news you delivered in person, in the agent's office. If the agent was gone, Director Stillman would have to make a trip over to the agent's house. It was also the type of news that could not wait until morning.  
  
The agent was Clayton Webb. Marcus liked Clay, had known him for years here at CIA, and had even worked with him a couple of times in the field. He knew Clay's last mission in Iraq had been a tough one. Marcus had seen Clay's mission objectives before they had left, and had secretly questioned Clay's choice of team members. He knew the two JAG officers were friends, and he also knew of Clay's past relationship with Major Harris. Langley was an office building like any other in America, complete with a gossip grapevine. He paid attention to it, just for information, and this time the information had paid off. Poor Clay. He was a good agent, and a good man, and sometimes it was hard to be both in this business.  
  
He arrived at Clay's office and looked inside a minute before knocking. Clay was sitting behind his desk, looking intently at a small picture frame. He looked beat. Not just tired, beat, worn out. Marcus thought again about who was really the captive in these situations, the one held by the enemy, or their loved ones at home, waiting for news. Marcus had the news, but he was not sure if it was good or bad yet. Clay would decide that for him. He knocked on the door.  
  
Clay was started by the knock, and hastily put the picture frame down on his desk and looked up. He was surprised to see it was Marcus Stillman. 'Hello Marcus, come in.'  
  
'I hope I'm not disturbing you Clay. I wasn't sure if you would still be here at this hour.' Marcus said, still standing in the doorway.  
  
'No, you aren't disturbing me, come in.' Clay said as he stood up behind his desk.  
  
Marcus nodded and stepped into the office. He closed the door behind him. This was a signal to Clay. 'Clay, sit down.' Marcus said, as he moved toward the two chairs in front of Clay's desk. He had news, Clay thought. This was the moment he had both hoped for, and dreaded in the past days.   
  
Marcus sat down in one chair, and indicated the chair beside him for Clay to use. Clay just moved in front of his desk, and leaned against it, holding on to the edge with a vice grip that turned his knuckles white. So, that's how it is, is it? Marcus thought.   
  
Clay leaned against his desk, his gaze locked on Marcus for any sign. She's dead a voice in his head said. Get ready for it. Clay swallowed once, tried his voice. 'Is a… is there any news?' he asked.  
  
'Yes' Marcus answered. 'A couple of hours ago, a Marine patrol, much like the one you were attached with, but not the same one, found an abandoned encampment.' He stopped there, for he saw that Clay wasn't really listening to these details, he was only listening for one thing. Best to just get it out. 'They found Major Harris, Clay. She's alive.'  
  
Clay breathed in, and exhaled slowly, whispering 'Thank God. Thank you God.' Clay's mind was reeling, his knees went weak under him, and he leaned more on the desk behind him. 'Alive. You're sure?' he asked, not sure he had heard correctly.   
  
'Yes, they are sure it is Major Harris. They matched the description of her.' Marcus said.   
  
'How is she? Is she all right? What has she said?' a hundred questions popped into Clay's head, and he couldn't get them out fast enough.  
  
'I'll tell you everything I know, Clay.' Marcus said. He started the details again; Clay was ready for them now. 'The marine patrol found this encampment. It had been used in the last couple of days, but was deserted now. The Marines went in to try and find anything helpful the group may have left behind. There was one building, Major Harris was found locked in a room below ground.' He paused here; he wasn't sure how to say what was coming next.   
  
'What Marcus? What else?' Clay was impatient, he needed more information.  
  
'She has been badly beaten Clay. We think she had been left there to die. Another few hours, or another day, and we might have been too late.'  
  
'How bad, Marcus?' Clay was fighting to hold back his imagination as to her injuries. But he had to know how bad she was hurt.  
  
'Clay, I just don't know. The medics with the Marine patrol patched her up as best they could, and flew her in a chopper back to their base. From there, the medics were able to do a little more, but they don't have the equipment to check for all possible injuries. She has not regained consciousness since being found, she has a broken arm, but other than that, we won't know for a while.'  
  
'Where is she now?' Clay asked quickly.  
  
'She is being prepped to fly to the US Army Hospital in Baghdad. She will get the best care there.' Marcus answered.  
  
'Then I'm going to Baghdad.' Clay stated, and moved to pick up his things behind his desk. He was finished talking with Marcus. He had told Clay all he knew. Amy was alive, and needed him, and he was going to her, finally.  
  
'Clayton wait.' Marcus said.   
  
'Don't try and stop me Marcus. You won't succeed.' Clay stated.  
  
'Clay, I won't stop you, but listen to me.' He waited until Clay looked at him again. 'If you want to go to be with her, I understand. But I will let you go over there only to be with her. If you make any move toward finding out more about this insurgent group, I'll send an agent after you to take you out, so help me… This can not become a personal trip for revenge.' Marcus wanted to make this perfectly clear.  
  
'You have my word, Marcus. I am going there to be with Am…Major Harris.'  
  
'Clay. I don't know her, but, do you think she will want to see you, after all of this?' Marcus asked gently. He did not blame Clay for what happened. Marcus himself was partly to blame, since he was the one who ordered Clay home, and would not let him stay to look for the Major. But the Major didn't know all that, and may blame Clay.   
  
Clay replied, 'I do know her, and she may not want to see me. But I have to see her, or at least see that she is all right, and being taken care of, even if she won't talk to me. I just have to be there with her, Marcus. That's the only explanation I can give.' He finished weakly.  
  
Marcus nodded in understanding. 'There is a military flight taking off from Andrews for Baghdad in 2 hours. There is a seat on it for you.'  
  
'Thank you Marcus' Clay said, and left the office. Marcus was still unsure whether the news he had just shared was good or bad for Clay. He hoped it all worked out for Clay somehow.  
  
Clayton Webb's Townhouse  
  
Alexandria, VA  
  
2205 local time  
  
Clay went home, threw some things into a bag and was about to head out when he remembered something he had to do first. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. The phone rang 2, 3 times and was answered by a sleepy voice.   
  
'Yes, Hello?'  
  
'Sarah, its Clay.'  
  
He realized it was getting late to be calling, and felt bad that he had woke her up, but he knew once she heard the news, she wouldn't mind the interruption.  
  
'What is it Clay?' she asked, sounding more awake now.  
  
'I apologize about calling at this hour, but I couldn't wait.' Clay said.  
  
'Wait for what, what is it?' Clay could tell she was expecting news, bad news, the same way he had when Marcus stepped into his office.  
  
'I got the news tonight. The Marines have found Amy. She is alive. She is hurt but alive. They are flying her to the Army hospital in Baghdad.  
  
'Alive! That's wonderful.' Sarah almost shouted. 'How is she hurt? Is she all right?'   
  
'We don't know all of her injuries. We only know she has a broken arm for sure. I will find out more when I get there. There is a military flight leaving…in fact I better get going. I just wanted you to know. Please pass the good news along to everyone. Clay asked.  
  
'Of course. It will be a pleasure to pass this news along. Oh, I wish I was going with you to see her. Please give her my love.' Sarah requested.  
  
'I will.' Said Clay, along with mine he thought, if she'll take it.  
  
'Call us soon, let us know how she is doing.' Sarah asked before he had to go.  
  
'Yes, we will.' Clay answered. 'And Sarah,…Thanks for everything.' he added.  
  
'Take care Clay.' Sarah said, and hung up.  
  
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean  
  
Military flight to Baghdad  
  
The flight to Baghdad was long, noisy, and uncomfortable, but Clay hardly noticed. His mind and heart were focused on one thing, getting to Amy.  
  
Marcus Stillman had voiced the one thing Clay was afraid to think about, but he had the time on the flight to think, and it wouldn't stop nagging him. What if Amy didn't want to see him? What if she refused to talk with him?  
  
He couldn't blame her if she did refuse to talk to him. He had dragged her on this mission against her wishes, and had almost gotten her killed.  
  
And what about her health? How badly was she hurt? Was he still in danger of losing her?  
  
It was pointless to try and answer any of these questions now. He will find out the answers once they landed. He would just have to wait. He hoped he could at least talk to her, see that she was all right, and make sure she didn't need anything. He wouldn't pressure her to talk to him if she didn't want to. At least not until she was stronger, feeling better. He loved her. He just had to be able to tell her that and hope…he didn't want to live without her.  
  
Baghdad, Iraq  
  
1800 hours local time  
  
When the plane landed, Clay was met by a young CIA agent working here in the Station office. He introduced himself as Byrnes, Will Byrnes. He had been sent to pick up Agent Webb at the airport, and take him into the city. He asked Clay if he wanted to go to his quarters first.  
  
'Quarters?' Clay asked. He hadn't even thought about where he would stay while here.   
  
'Yes Sir.' Byrnes answered. 'There is a hotel that most of the US officers working at the hospital are living at, and we have secured a room for you there. It's not much, more like a dorm really, but it's clean. Do you want to go there and get settled first? It is just a block or so from the hospital.'  
  
'No. Take my bag over to the room if you would. I want to go to the hospital first.' He was going to see her very soon. He was happy and excited and worried all at the same time. He would not be able to do anything, until he saw her.  
  
Byrnes drove him to the US Army Hospital in the city, and dropped him off at the front entrance, then drove off to bring Clay's bag to his room.  
  
The hospital entrance was blocked by reporters, photographers, press everywhere. Some were just standing around; others were filing reports in front of cameras and lights. Clay was able to make a path, and enter the hospital without being stopped. He couldn't imagine what the press was here for, and then it dawned on him that Amy was here, and the story had broke that she had been found. It would be all over the news, how she was found, and what her injuries where, who had found her. Maybe even what her mission had been in the first place. He hoped the story would be kept quiet, but he was sure that was all ready too late. He vowed right here to do everything he could to keep them away from Amy. He would have to be careful not to let the reporters find out who he was, or his connection to Amy. The last thing he needed was to be hounded by the press as the CIA agent that had put America's new hero in danger.  
  
Once inside the building, Clay went over to the desk marked "INFORMATION". A tall young Marine was standing behind the desk, 'Yes?' he asked eyeing Clay carefully.  
  
'I'd like to see Major Harris, please. What room is she in' Clay asked politely.   
  
'Who wants to know?' the Marine asked back accusingly.  
  
Clayton was tired from the flight, and the past week he had spent. He was not happy to have to get past this "pit bull" to see Amy. But he tried to remember the Marine was only doing his job, and it was "pit bulls" like him that would help keep the media away from Amy too.  
  
'My name is Clayton Webb.' He pulled out his CIA ID badge and showed it to the Marine.   
  
'Another CIA agent? You come to question her more? Hasn't she had enough of that?' the Marine retorted.  
  
'Questions? No, I'm not here to question her.' Clay answered a bit confused. 'Have other agents been here to question her?'  
  
'Two other agents were already here earlier. Mueller and Lovack' the Marine told him, consulting the sign in sheet in front of him. 'They didn't stay long.'  
  
'Look, I just flew in from Washington. I'm a friend of Major Harris' and I just want to see her. See if she is all right.' Clay finished. Why does he have to explain himself to this young marine?   
  
'Well,' the marine stared, looking Clay up and down. 'You can go up, and check with the nurses up there to see if Major Harris is up to seeing anyone.' Clay felt a surge of relief at this. 'Go up the stairs to the third floor. Take a left at the top. It's the nurses' station at the end of the hall.'  
  
'Thank you.' Clay said, and started up the stairs behind the Information desk, taking them two at a time.   
  
He made it upstairs and walked down the hallway. 'I'm going to see her. I hope she will see me.' He kept thinking. He came to the nurses' desk and was stopped there by an African American woman standing there glaring at him, dislike and contempt written all over her face. Her ID around her neck read Dorothy M. and the picture there matched the one looking at him now. 'You Webb' she asked without preamble.  
  
'Yes.' He answered.  
  
'Let's see that ID, Mr. Webb.' He took it from his pocket and showed it to her. Her eyes got a little wider, and she looked back at his face. 'You're Clayton Webb?'   
  
Clay nodded, 'People call you Clay.'   
  
'Yes' though he did not want her calling him that. He hoped she would not notice him at all after this. He didn't understand why she was interested in his first name.  
  
'Major Harris is not really receiving visitors right now.' Nurse Dorothy informed him.  
  
'I've come a long way to see her. I think, I hope she will see me.' He was standing outside her room right now. He wasn't sure he could walk away after getting this close. He had to see her.  
  
Nurse Dorothy kept looking at him, thinking it over. Finally she said 'I guess I can go ask her if she wants to see you now.'  
  
'Thank you.' Clay answered politely. Clayton held his breath as he watched her enter the room behind the nurses' station. In a moment, Nurse Dorothy came back out with a frown on her face. Clay took that as a good sign.  
  
'Major Harris said she will see Mr. Webb, but keep it short, she needs rest.'  
  
The room was long and narrow, with 3 beds on both sides of the room. There was a set of windows at the end of the room, and the last light of the evening was coming through them. All the beds were empty except the last one on the right, near the window. A curtain was drawn on one side of the bed; Clay could only see some feet under bed covers to tell anyone was there; that and the soft beep of monitor equipment.  
  
As Clay approached the bed, his heart beat faster, and his palms got sweaty. Suddenly he was afraid.  
  
He came around the end of the bed and saw her. She was lying on her side, facing the windows, propped up on her side by several pillows. The arm that was on top, was wrapped and in a sling. The other was lying straight out in front of her. She had on an oxygen tube wrapped over her ears, and resting under her nose. She wore a hospital gown. Whatever part of her that was not covered by gown or blanket or bandage was black and blue, cut or swollen. Some of the bruises were fading to a purplish green. One eye was swollen; the other had a cut near the top that was held together by surgical tape. Both eyes were closed.  
  
Clayton felt weak. He wanted to cry, or scream, or punch something in rage. All he managed to do was whisper her name. 'Amy. My God, Amy what have they done to you?' He crouched down so his face was level with hers. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, take her in his arms and take all the pain onto himself. But he didn't dare touch her, fearing he might hurt her. He gently took the hand that was laying in front of her in both of his, and said 'Amy. It's me, Clay. I'm here.'  
  
'Clay?' Her eyes opened and she weakly closed her hand on his. 'Clay. What are you doing here?'  
  
'I came to see you.' He said.  
  
She didn't seem to hear him. 'Clay, are you all right?' She was searching his face with her eyes. 'You're not hurt?'  
  
'Me, no. I'm fine' why was she asking these questions? Why would he be hurt? He didn't understand.  
  
'And Sarah, Harm where are they?' she asked.  
  
'They are in Washington. They send their love.' Then it hit him. The last time he had talked to her they were in the hills. She had been taken away and never knew if they had gotten back safely, or had been found and killed. She was concerned about him, while she lay in a hospital bed, covered with bruises.  
  
'We are fine.' He assured her. 'We got out, got back to the Marine base just fine. You were the only one taken.'  
  
'Clay, I was so scared. I didn't know what happened.' She began to cry. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.   
  
This was more than Clay could take. 'No, please don't cry.' He began to gently wipe the tears off her cheek with one hand, while tears filled his own eyes. 'We are all fine. And you are safe now. That is all that matters.'  
  
Amy continued on. She was so tired, could not keep her eyes open, but she had to know. Her voice was growing weaker, but she pressed on at a whisper. 'The Marines. I was so afraid to ask anyone, but I have to know. Please tell me.'  
  
Clay wanted to help calm her, but didn't know what she was talking about. 'What about the Marines?'  
  
'Are they all right? Was the base attached?' she asked.  
  
Was this what those thugs wanted to know, what they tried to get out of her? Clay thought. He was going to put an end to their hold on her right now. 'Amy, the Marine base is safe, I assure you. They moved it and it was never found. None of them were hurt. I promise.'  
  
It was as if she had not heard him, she couldn't let go. 'I was so cold. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't remember if I said anything. Clayton, I can't remember.' And she began crying again, harder.  
  
'Shhh, it's all right. Everyone is safe. Please believe me, and stop worrying. You didn't tell them anything.' He was sure of this. She would not have been in such bad shape if she had told them anything.  
  
His words were starting to sink in, past the pain and fog in her mind. 'Everyone is OK?'  
  
'Yes, I promise.' He wiped the tears from her face with the edge of the sheet and sat back to just look at her. What had she been through? It didn't bare thinking about right now.  
  
Amy opened her eyes, and really looked at Clay. His cheeks were wet too from crying, but he smiled at her when he saw her eyes. 'Clay, what are you doing here?'  
  
His smile got wider. 'I came to see you. I had to make sure you were all right. I've been so worried….' His eyes filled again, and he tried to blink them clear. 'I was so afraid I lost you.' He whispered.  
  
Amy wasn't sure he should be here anymore. She wanted to be in his arms so much, to feel his love again, but if it truly wasn't there, she wasn't strong enough to face him. 'Clayton, I don't want your pity, or your guilt. Maybe you better…'  
  
He cut her off, 'Will you take my love?' There it was, his heart laid bare. 'Amy, I've been such a damn fool. I can't stop loving you. Its not pity or guilt. I just love you, and need you. I'm lost without you.'  
  
'Mr. Webb.' A stern voice broke in from beside the curtain. 'It's time you should be going. Major Harris needs her rest.'   
  
Clay stood up, and faced Nurse Dorothy. 'Just a couple more minutes, please, and then I'll go.' My life is on the line here, he wanted to say. Can't I have two more minutes to see what that life will be? He couldn't say the words, but hoped his request for a few more minutes would be enough.  
  
'All right.' Said Nurse Dorothy reluctantly. 'I'll give you two minutes, and then I'm coming in here and taking you out myself.' And she turned on her heel and stomped out.  
  
Clay looked down at Amy. It almost looked liked she was smiling. He crouched back down beside her. 'Amy'  
  
Her eyes opened, and she was smiling. 'Clay.' She said. 'God help me, but I never stopped loving you either. I couldn't. I tried.' She closed her eyes again.  
  
Clay could hardly believe his ears. She still loved him. After everything he had done, all the pain he had caused her. She still loved him. His heart soared, and he felt a little light headed.  
  
Amy was too tired to keep her eyes open any more. 'I wish you didn't have to go.'  
  
'Me too.' He said. 'I'd sleep on the floor beside you and be happy, if they let me.'  
  
'They won't.' came her answer. Though she was pleased he wanted to stay too.  
  
Her voice was getting sleepy. 'I better go.' Clay said, but he hated to leave. 'I'm not far away, and I'll be back tomorrow. I promise.'  
  
'Good' she said. Clay stood up again and just watched her for a moment. He looked through the bruises to the beautiful woman sleeping in front of him. He moved to go, but she would not let go of his hand. 'Tell me again.' She said. He smiled and poured his heart into the words. 'I love you, Amelia Harris.'  
  
'I love you too, Spook.' And her hand relaxed. He knew she was asleep. He leaned down and kissed her ever so lightly on her forehead. When he straightened up, Dorothy was looking at him. 'Major Harris' doctor is here. He wants to talk to you.'  
  
Perfect, thought Clay. Just the man I want to see.  
  
The young man was looking at a file at the nurses' desk when Clay came out of Amy's room. Clay looked at him carefully. He hardly looked old enough to bandage a skinned knee, and he looked tired. Everybody looked tired in Baghdad these days, Clay thought.  
  
The doctor finished with the file, closed it, and looked up at Clay. 'Jon Griffith, I'm Major Harris' primary physician. And you are Mr. Webb?' he said, and extended his hand. Clay shook his hand. 'Yes, nice to meet you Dr. Griffith.'  
  
'So, you are Clayton?' the doctor asked, looking him over.  
  
'You are the second person to say that to me since I arrived here.' Clay said, glancing at Nurse Dorothy. She met his gaze, and then looked at the paper work on her desk. Dr. Griffith glanced at her too. Picking up the folder in front of him, he took a step toward the hallway. 'My shift is almost over. Why don't you and I have a private talk, Mr. Webb?' Clay nodded and followed the young doctor down the hall.  
  
The two men went down several flights of stairs to the basement. There was a cafeteria of sorts there. Dr. Griffith entered the line, and picked up a sandwich and carton of milk. 'When was the last time you ate anything Webb?' he asked.  
  
'I don't even remember.' Came the truthful answer.  
  
'Get a sandwich' the doctor suggested. 'They are not great, but they are safer than the mystery casserole.'  
  
Clay picked up a sandwich and carton of milk too. The doctor paid for their dinners, saying 'I get a discount.' And then they went to a table, away from the other personal in the dining hall.  
  
After sitting down, the doctor got right to the point. 'What exactly is your relationship to Major Harris?' he asked Clay.  
  
He was taken aback by the forthrightness of the question, and was not prepared to tell this doctor everything, but Clay did understand he wanted only to protect Amy, like everyone else seemed to in the hospital, and Clay had to respect that. 'Major Harris and I are friends. She was working for me, on my mission, when she was captured.'  
  
Dr. Griffith thought there was more to it than that, and what Dorothy had told him she had overheard between this Webb and Major Harris, confirmed his suspicions, but he would not push Webb for more. At least not right now. He had looked closely at Webb and saw a few very telling things. The doctor couldn't help himself, he started diagnosing Mr. Webb. Dark circles under his eyes, hollow cheeks, and an undercurrent of guilt, over what had happened on "his mission" and what he had seen of Major Harris upstairs. Webb had not been taking care of himself lately, that was apparent, and the thickness in his voice, the distress in his eyes, said more to Dr. Griffith than any words Clayton Webb had said so far.  
  
'You will have to forgive my being so blunt, Mr. Webb. You saw the press outside the hospital?' he asked, and Clayton nodded as he chewed a bite of his sandwich. 'They want every detail about Major Harris they can get, and we want to be very careful what information is given out. Major Harris has not said much, at least not to me, but she made it clear she does not want the whole world to know what happened to her. She is ashamed of her injuries, embarrassed, and she doesn't need that kind of attention. No one does.' The doctor finished, and took a bite of his own sandwich.  
  
'I assure you doctor,' Clayton said, 'I have no intention of talking to the press, or exposing Amy, Major Harris, to anything that might hurt her more.'   
  
'I'm glad to hear it.' Jon said. 'There have been two other CIA agents already knocking on her door, wanting to question her. I didn't have the authority to keep them out completely, but I am trying. She needs rest. There will be time later, when she is stronger to debrief her, right?' he was hoping he could have an ally in Webb, to keep the other agents out for a while.  
  
Clay was happy to help. 'Of course. There is no need to start with that right now.'  
  
'Could you get those other agents to back off a while?' Jon asked hopefully.  
  
'Yes' Clay said confidently. If anyone bothered Amy right now, they would have to get through him first.  
  
'You would be my own personal hero, Mr. Webb.'  
  
'Doctor, what are Amy,….Major Harris' injuries? How badly hurt is she?' Clay asked carefully. He was a little afraid of the answer, but had to ask.  
  
Doctor Griffith decided to let Webb in the circle of protection around Major Harris. 'Mr. Webb. Only about 12 people know the full extend of her injuries, and we want to keep that number small. Less people who know, the less chance of details leaking out. Whoever held Major Harris captive tried very hard to beat her to death, and they nearly succeeded. She is one big bruise from the top of her head to her toes.' Dr. Griffith said sadly.   
  
Clay had seen the evidence, but it wasn't any easier to hear the news. He stopped eating, and gave the doctor his full attention.  
  
'The worst injury is the broken arm. That may need surgery, but will have to wait until she is strong enough to make the trip home. She has broken ribs, bruised ribs, bruised stomach, liver, kidneys, …'  
  
As each one was listed, Clay's heart sank deeper, and his stomach turned.  
  
Dr. Griffith went on. He didn't want to, but had to list a couple more things before he was finished. 'The first night she told us they marched all night. They took way her boots, made her march barefoot. Her feet are now cut up and bruised too. Then the last night, they took some kind of riding crop, whipped her back, 12 or 15 times. Those cuts and the cuts on her feet are infected. She will carry scars the rest of her life.' The doctor stopped here. Webb had grown a little pale, he had heard enough. Dr. Griffith looked at the folder that was sitting on the side of their table. 'It may sound a bit morbid, but we took pictures. Just incase the …they were ever captured and tried. It's all in there.' He nodded toward the file. 'I need some coffee.' He said, and left Webb to look, or not look at the pictures in private. It also gave Webb the chance to pull himself together alone. No man needed to hear this kind of news about someone he obviously cared about, with an audience. Dr. Griffith stood, and moved away from the table.  
  
Clay was sick and numb inside. Tears gathered again in his eyes, along with rage. He slid the folder closer, forcing his hands to move, to open the folder. Some snapshots were on top. As photography went, the pictures were not very good; bad lighting, crooked angles. But the pictures told the story well enough. For modesty sake, a towel had been laid across Amy's breasts and hips, but the bruises were every where, and they did not stop at the edge of the towel. They were large, and purple, and shiny from the injury as well as the flash of the camera. Clayton looked at only a couple, before the half of the sandwich he had just eaten threatened to come back up. He hastily closed the folder again, and tried to gain control of himself, thankful he was alone. He took some deep breaths, and drank down the last of his milk, thinking it might help settle his stomach. He reminded himself again that Amy was upstairs. She was safe, and her injuries were being tended to. Everything would be all right.  
  
After a couple of minutes, Dr. Griffith sat back down at the table and looked at Clay. 'The good news is that she is alive, and will make it. It will just take time. We can make her comfortable, cure the infections, but rest is the thing that will make her well. With that said,' he paused, and looked Clay in the eye. 'I will let you have open visiting privileges to Major Harris. You may come and go as you like while you are here. But if you abuse these privileges, Mr. Webb, I will take them away. Major Harris needs rest. Nothing will get in the way of that. I'll make sure of it.'  
  
'I understand Doctor. Thank you. I won't get in the way.' Clay promised. 'And, I plan on staying here until Major Harris is ready to go home. I will bring her home myself.' He said.  
  
This also told Dr. Griffith a lot, of what really was between Mr. Webb and his patient. 'Well then,' he said, 'you may as well call me Jon. Where will you be staying, Webb?'  
  
'I guess at some former hotel nearby.' Clay said.  
  
'Yes, I'm there, as are most of the officers here at the hospital. It's not the Hilton, but it's not too bad. Sort of like the dorm at college.'  
  
Memories of Clay's college days streaked through his mind. Not all of them good of the dorm he had lived in on campus. 'Great.' he said.  
  
'Why don't we go and check one more time on our mutually favorite patient, then I will walk over to the 'dorm' with you, and get you settled.' Jon offered.  
  
'Thank you Jon. And it's Clay.' Then he paused, remembering something as the two of them stood up with their food trays. 'That reminds me. You never told me why everyone seems so interested in my name.'  
  
Jon smiled a little, before answering. It wasn't an easy thing to describe. 'Major Harris has been here a little over 30 hours. When we weren't poking her, or taking pictures, or asking questions, she slept. But it hadn't been very restful…she has nightmares.' The doctor stopped here, watching for a reaction, he got it. Webb knew about nightmares, too. 'She cries out your name in her sleep, Clay.'  
  
Clay had no answer to this. The sick feeling came back. Knowing her injuries, what she had been through, was too much. But knowing she had cried out for him, left a hole inside him.  
  
The doctor left that in the air between them, and turned to go back upstairs to Amy's room. Clay followed a few steps behind.  
  
When they arrived back at the nurses' station on the 3rd floor, Dr. Griffith stopped there and gave instructions to Nurse Dorothy. '…And, I am making a note in Major Harris' chart that Mr. Webb be given every courtesy and allowed to visit at any time.' He looked at Clay seriously, 'However, if I hear that he is here too much, and is Major Harris is not getting enough rest, I will cancel all visiting.' Clay nodded his understanding, and saw Dorothy smile a little as she answered 'Yes, Sir'. She gave Clay a look, daring him to go too far, and warning him that she would be keeping an eye on him.  
  
Dr. Griffith sort of winked at Clay. 'Go on in and check on her, and then we will go over to the hotel.'  
  
Clay quietly entered Amy's room and approached the bed. She lay very peacefully there, breathing deeply. He didn't wish to wake her. He gently moved some hair off her forehead, and saw a part of her that was not bruised. This he gently kissed, with all the love in his heart. 'Goodnight, beautiful.' He whispered, and then left the room.  
  
US Army Hospital  
  
Baghdad, Iraq  
  
1055 local time  
  
Over the next few days Clay was a frequent visitor to the room on the third floor. The nurses got to know him, and noticed how attentive he was to Major Harris, which made him all right in their books, even if he was CIA.   
  
Clay also talked to Agents Mueller and Lovack, the two who had tried to question Amy as soon as she arrived at the hospital. He told them he would be taking over Amy's case, and they need not bother her anymore. They were not too pleased with this arrangement, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Amy would be debriefed, but by someone he picked in the agency.  
  
When he wasn't with Amy at the hospital, Clay worked on Intel reports from the Baghdad station office. He analyzed information on the insurgent group that he would have seen in Washington anyway, and reports on trouble makers in the area. He also talked to Marcus Stillman, and kept Harm and Sarah updated on Amy's recovery.   
  
Amy was able to rest more comfortably now that she knew everyone was safe. She grew stronger everyday. The bruises were fading, and her cuts were healing. She was able to sit up in a chair for short times each day also.  
  
One day, as Clay came up to the nurses' station to visit, the nurse on duty stopped him, saying he could not go in just yet. 'Major Harris is getting cleaned up.' She said.  
  
Clay waited, and in a few minutes a young, good looking Hispanic man came out of the room, pushing a low cart with cloths, towels, soap and things on it. 'Thanks Juan.' The nurse said. 'You're welcome.' Juan answered. 'She keeps looking better each day, don't you think Cathy?' Juan asked Nurse Cathy, referring to Amy. 'Yes she does. See you later.' And Juan walked on down the hall.  
  
Clay watched this exchange, and had mixed feelings about it, but before he could put a name to those feelings, Nurse Cathy looked at him, and said 'You can go in now Mr. Webb.'   
  
Clay walked into Amy's room. She was lying down with her eyes closed and a very satisfied smile on her lips. Clay did not like this at all, and said a little harshly, 'Hey Jarhead, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.'  
  
'Hello, Spook' answered Amy, not opening here eyes. 'I just had a bath, and I feel much more human. I have to look good you know.'  
  
'Oh, do you?' Clay asked, playing along.  
  
'Yes' she answered. 'My boyfriend is coming to see me.'   
  
'Oh.' Clay said leaning over to give her a kiss. 'Lucky guy.'  
  
US Army Hospital  
  
Baghdad, Iraq  
  
1105 local time  
  
A few days later, Clay was walking to the hospital and was enjoying the warm spring day. The sun was shining, and there was hardly any breeze. It was a beautiful day, and it gave him an idea.  
  
He looked for Dr. Griffith in the hospital and talked to him before going up to Amy's room, with a few extra supplies. She was in bed, and glad to see him. She was also surprised by what he had brought. A wheelchair, pillows and an extra blanket. 'What's all that for?' she asked him.  
  
'It's a beautiful day outside, and I thought you would like some fresh air. There is a small courtyard in back of the hospital, I thought we could take a stroll and enjoy the morning.'   
  
Amy smiled. 'Its sounds wonderful. Seems like I haven't been outside in ages.' She watched Clay move the wheelchair around to the side of the bed and start arranging the pillows for her to sit on. 'But….ah Clay' she said.  
  
'Uhmmm' he answered, still arranging. 'You will have to help me into the chair.' Amy hated to have to ask him for help, she didn't want him to know how weak she still was, but she did wish to go outside with him.   
  
'I know' he said. 'I'll just lift you up and set you down, no trouble.' Having arranged the chair the way he thought would be most comfortable for her; he came over to the bed and pushed aside the sheets and blankets so he could lift her. 'Put your good arm around my neck, and we will tuck the other one right here.' He said, moving her arm in the sling to her lap. He then put his other arm under her knees and Amy said, 'Now be careful. Don't hurt yourself.' She was nervous; the last thing she wanted was him to hurt his back lifting her.  
  
'I'm fine. I've lifted you before, haven't I?' he said, remembering a few times he had lifted her and carried her to bed.  
  
'Yes, but I can't help much,…' she started but he interrupted. 'I'm fine. On three.' He bent his knees and braced himself to lift her out of the bed and put her in the chair beside him. 'One, two three…' and he lifted. He was not prepared for how light she felt. He had not taken into account that she had not eaten any food as a prisoner, and wasn't even eating more that some broth and toast so far at the hospital since her stomach and other organs were healing. She had always been lean, but she hardly seemed to weigh more than a child. She must have lost 20 pounds he thought, and she could hardly spare the weight.  
  
She moaned a little in his arms, and it brought him out of his surprised thoughts. 'Did I hurt you?' he asked anxiously.   
  
'No. It just feels so good to be in your arms.' She said, snuggling a little closer to him, and rested her head on his shoulder.   
  
She was right. It did feel good to be holding her in his arms. They had exchanged chaste kisses over the past days, but he had not been able to hold her, had been afraid to, thinking that touching her would cause her pain.  
  
Amy could have stayed there in Clay's arms all day. It felt so good to be safe like this again. She had wanted this since she had seen him at her bedside. 'Can I stay right here, just for a minute?' she asked. 'Or am I getting too heavy?'  
  
'We can stay like this all day if you want.' Clay answered, and he just stood there and enjoyed the moment with her. They were together, and nothing was going to pull them apart again.  
  
He did finally place her gently in the chair, tucked in the blanket around her legs and lead her outside.  
  
As they were walking around the courtyard, Amy asked him 'Clay, since you saw Juan, the clerk that had cleaned me up that one morning, I haven't seen him.'  
  
'Really?' Clay said innocently.   
  
'Yes. Only female clerks have been coming in to clean me up and comb my hair.' Amy said, knowing full well where she was going with this subject.  
  
Clay made no response to this, so Amy went on. 'I asked the nurses where Juan was, because I had liked him, and they said there had been a complaint and that he had been assigned to another floor.'  
  
'Hmmm' was the only response she received from Clay.  
  
'Clayton Webb! You were jealous and you had Juan sent to another floor!' Amy said rather angrily.   
  
'I do have green eyes.' he said a little too playfully.   
  
'I'm serious.' Amy said. 'I don't want a complaint to go on his record. He was very good, and respectful, and I at least had no problem with him.' Amy answered.  
  
'I will make sure the complaint does not go on his record.' Clay reassured her. 'But I was jealous of a young, good looking man bathing you. I should be the one doing that, and since the hospital won't let me, because I have volunteered my services with Dr. Griffith, I wasn't going to let any other man do that job either. So, I asked for female clerks to take over that duty, until you can do it yourself.' So ended that discussion.  
  
They came to a bench in the sunshine, and Clay parked the wheelchair beside it, and he sat down, facing her. There were some things he wanted to talk to her about in private, and this was as private as they could get in the hospital.  
  
She turned her face up to the sun and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, with a smile on her face. 'This is nice.' She sighed. Clay thought she looked so pretty. 'I could just curl up like a cat a sleep here all day.' Then she remembered the day she had followed the sun from the window in the room, how she had tried to sleep, tried to stay warm. The smile disappeared from her face, and she dropped her head, trying to get that image from her mind. Clay noticed the shadow that crossed her face.  
  
'You all right?' he asked anxiously, wondering if she was in pain, or uncomfortable.  
  
'I'm fine.' She looked at him and smiled again, and tried again to enjoy the sun.  
  
'Clay, when will you have to return to Washington?' she asked, still facing the sky. She had become very spoiled having him around everyday, and knew it wouldn't last. She was preparing herself for when he would have to leave.  
  
'I'm not leaving until you are ready to leave with me.' He stated. She brought her head down, and turned to look at him, surprised. 'No' she said. 'Yes' he said more strongly. 'No,' she continued over him. 'I won't have you waiting for me. It could be a couple of weeks, Clay. You will get bored and…'  
  
'Bored! When I have you to myself everyday? Besides, there is work to do here in the Baghdad Station office, I won't get bored.' He said with a sly smile.  
  
Amy became a little frightened at this. 'No Clay. I don't want you to go after these people. Please, stay away from them.' She was afraid the "work" he was talking about was tracking down the group that had held her captive, and putting him in danger. That was the last thing she wanted.  
  
Clay noticed how anxious she had become, just at the mention of his work, and tried to reassure her. 'This trip is to be with you. Really. I'm under strict orders not to go after them, at least not right now. But I will track them down eventually, Amy. I promise you that.' This seemed to calm her a little. 'The work I am doing now is analyzing information coming directly into the station from their network here. That's all, I promise.'  
  
Amy was relieved, but still didn't want him waiting around for her, until she was well enough to be sent home. 'But Clay, it might be weeks before I'm ready to travel.'  
  
'I've talked with Dr. Griffith. It might be a couple of weeks, but then the best place for you will be the hospitals in the US. If you need surgery on your arm, it should be done there, where there is more staff, and the best doctors. We will take you home before you know it. I'm staying here with you, no matter what. I left without you once before, I won't do it again. Besides, I like having you to myself.' He said lightly, trying to joke with her.  
  
They sat quietly for a moment. Then Clay asked, 'The station here has pictures of known trouble makers Amy. When you are stronger, would you be willing to look at a few? See if there is anyone you recognize?' He hated to ask, but it was a good opportunity to try and identify some of the insurgents.  
  
'I'll look at the pictures. I will only really be able to identify the leader. His face I'll never forget.' She said dryly. 'But later, all right? I'm not ready yet.'  
  
He understood. 'Of course.' As long as the subject had been brought up, he wanted to ask another question.  
  
'Amy, you will have to be debriefed eventually.' Clay said, hating to bring up the obvious. 'You and I could start while you are still here. We could take it a little at a time.'  
  
'No.' Amy stated emphatically.   
  
'It might be easier to talk to me, tell me some of the tougher parts.' Clay tried to explain. 'I could tell how strong you were and stop when I saw that it was getting to tough for you…'  
  
'No Clay. I won't…' Amy started.  
  
'Amy you have to talk eventually, to me or someone else. It may be easier to talk to me.'  
  
'Clay I will talk to whoever you want me to. I will answer the questions, make my statement. I just don't want to tell you what happened. I don't know how to explain it.' She said helplessly.  
  
'I can help you; I can support you, Amy. It might be easier…'  
  
'Clay.' Amy interrupted him. 'Why haven't you ever told me about what happened to you in Paraguay?'  
  
Clay didn't understand where that question came from. And he had not really thought about it before. He knew Amy knew about some of the things that had happened in Paraguay, but they had never discussed it. She had been there to see the nightmares that still plagued him now and then, and he expected that she and Sarah may have discussed it too.  
  
'I guess…I didn't want to tell you. I didn't feel like it was a part of us, part of what we shared. You know about the nightmares, and I thought that was more than enough.' He said in answer to her question.  
  
'You are protecting me from what happened there.' She answered for him.   
  
'Yes, maybe.' He said.  
  
'Are you ashamed in any way for what happened?' she asked then thought better of it. 'On second thought you don't have to answer that.'  
  
Amy continued. 'I am ashamed of what happened to me Clay. I feel I should have done more, tried harder. I didn't even try to escape. I was too weak, too afraid.' While she said this, she grew more agitated, but it felt good to get some of this off her chest. 'I was cold and scared, and I just let them do this to me!'  
  
'Shh, you did nothing wrong. You kept the information to yourself; you did not give in to them. You did all you could.' He tried to assure her. 'You see, I can help you through all these things if I was there.' He saw this as proof of why he should be there to debrief her.  
  
Amy saw it as proof he should not. 'I don't want to say these things, and have to watch you listen to them. I don't want to watch you imagine that room, and watch helplessly as I describe what went on there. Just like you, I want to protect you from what happened to me. Does that make sense?'  
  
Clay would not want to tell her about the hut in Paraguay, the pain and fear there. And he could understand how she did not want to share that sort of pain and fear with him.  
  
Her voice broke into his thoughts. 'I know you will read the report anyway. And you will see, and have seen my scars, Clay, so I will never be able to completely hide what happened to me there from you.' She said. 'But I don't want to watch you while you see them.'  
  
'All right.' He said.  
  
'All right.' She agreed. 'I will look at the pictures here; see if I recognize any of them. But not yet please. Give me a couple more days.'  
  
'Of course.' He answered.  
  
They sat quietly for a few more minutes, enjoying the sun. 'Amy, when we do go back home…will you marry me?' he asked. He had thought about it the past few days, spending time with her. He wanted a life where he could see her everyday, where they could share everything. He had not planned on just…coming out and saying it this way, but he couldn't stop himself.  
  
Amy looked at him and smiled. 'I…don't know Clay. There is so much to be worked out between us. And I don't know what I will do when I get home. Will I still be able to be a Marine? Will I still be able to work? If not, what will I do?'  
  
'Be my wife. You wouldn't have to work. Marry me, and we can have a family. You could sew all day if you wanted to. We could make a home together.' He was warming up to this idea.  
  
'And I'll keep the home fires burning while you are out saving the world, I suppose?' she asked  
  
'I'll leave CIA if you want me to. I can find other work in the government.' He said. He had not thought about that, but he could, if it meant he could have her as his wife.  
  
'You would hate that, and then hate me.' Amy stated. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she looked at him again. 'Clay, can I just say we will wait and see? Let's see how things get worked out first? Let me be well, and feel like myself again before I say Yes?' she asked hopefully.  
  
'As long as you are not saying No' he said hopefully. He knew it was too soon for her to make such a decision. They had only really been "back together" for a few days. It was unfair of him to ask her such a question yet.  
  
'It is not No, but not Yes either.' She stated with a smile. 'Let's just enjoy now. I just want to be, Clay. I want to be strong again, and stay awake all day, and eat real food, and walk by myself.'   
  
'You will do all those things, Amy. I'll make sure of it.' He promised, and sealed it with a kiss.  
  
End of Chapter 6 


	7. Coming Home

Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date May 2004  
  
This seemed forever to put together. This chapter and Chapter 8 are sort of 'filler/fun chapters', I have to admit; Much more romance and story progression. I wanted to try and make this one chapter, but it didn't workout. The best part is that Chapter 8 is almost done too, and will be posted sooner.   
  
Please stay tuned, there is more action and intrigue coming up.  
  
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey   
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
Chapter 7 Webb Odyssey  
  
Chap 7  
  
Coming Home  
  
US Army Hospital  
  
Baghdad, Iraq  
  
It had been a few weeks now, and Amy was almost back to 100%. Or, at least she thought so. She was feeling stronger, and eating some solid food now, and could even walk around her room a little. Her feet were still very sore, and a little swollen. The injury on her back was also still healing, and her ribs were still sore. Her arm was healing, and might not need surgery. She would see a specialist when she got back to Washington. All in all, she was feeling much better, and was getting anxious to go home.   
  
Since she had been feeling better, Clay had brought over books of pictures for her to look through to see if she recognized anyone. It had taken a couple of days, since she was only able to look at all the pictures for a short time before all the faces started looking the same, but she was able to identify two men. She had surprised herself that she actually remembered two of them.   
  
The leader, the man who had beaten her so many times was a face she would never forget. When she saw his face in a picture, even with a different hair style, and beard, she was able to identify him. And seeing him again, having those eyes look at her from the page, send a cold shiver through her, and choked her. Clay had been sitting right beside her, and noticed the fear that moved over her, and caused her to stiffen in the chair. 'Which one.' Was all he asked.  
  
Amy pointed at the picture with her finger, and was surprised her hand had gone a ghostly white.  
  
Clay slid the book over to him, so he could see the picture she had indicated, and read the name. 'Naveed Kharrat. He is a known dissident in the northern territory.' He looked over at Amy, who was holding her head in her hand, and had closed her eyes. 'Do you recognize the name?' Clay asked quietly.  
  
'No, I never heard a name.' she answered, looking up at him. The fear and sadness Clay saw in her eyes scared him too. 'That's all we need to do for today.' He said. 'Why don't we go for a walk?'   
  
A few days later, Amy was able to identify one other man, Mohammed Hassid. Another dissident/trouble maker who was under suspicion of having ties with a terrorist group responsible for suicide bombings near US Marine check points. Amy recognized him as one of the men always with Kharrat. He was one of the ones who held her while Kharrat punched. She also remembered Hessid had gotten some punches in too.  
  
With the information already gathered on these men, and Amy's positive ID of them as part of the insurgent group, Clay works with the CIA station office in Baghdad to put orders out to pick up either one of these men, or anyone in their company wherever they may be found. With that part completed, and the communication set up for Clay to receive any new information on these men immediately when he had returned to Washington, he and Amy are finally able to prepare to go home.  
  
Andrew's Air Force Base  
  
Prince George's County, Maryland  
  
1100 hours local time  
  
The 747 commercial airplane taxied to a special area on the tarmac. A small crowd of people had gathered behind a chain link fence, and a group of reporters were on the other side of the fence, facing a podium that was set up on the tarmac. There were uniformed police on the tarmac, and some security people that were in the dark suit and tie "uniform" of some official agency, wishing to keep its presence "low key". When the plane taxied in, the crowd started cheering, and photographers started snapping pictures.  
  
The stairway was moved into place, and people started alighting from the plane. All the passengers were uniformed service men and women, coming home from duty in far away places.   
  
Clay and Amy had been traveling for two days now. Like so many others, they had taken a military flight to Germany, stayed over one night, and then taken this flight to Washington. Clay was anxious to get home also, but had thought it better if he and Amy stayed in Germany a couple more days. It would give her a chance to rest some more before arriving in Washington. But Amy would not hear of it. She was like a little child, 'I just want to go home.' She knew the traveling would be hard on her, but she wanted very much to see her father, and Sarah and Harm. She had talked to all of them on the phone while recuperating in Baghdad, and wanted to see them now she was feeling better.  
  
Once the cabin doors opened, many of the service people exited the plane and were met by their families who had gathered at the runway. Clay and Amy waited for most of them to depart before getting up and gathering their things. Amy moved very slowly these days, and didn't want to hold anyone else up to wait for her. While Clay carried their smaller bags, he walked ahead of Amy to the door. They had discussed who would leave the plane first. Clay wanted to stay with Amy, but knew he could not be pictured with Amy, and have any chances of his identity discovered. It was never a good idea for any agent to get his picture in the press. So Clay came down the stairs first, and walked over to the fence to watch the proceedings with the security officers.   
  
When Amy exited the plane a cheer went up from the crowd. Amy was overwhelmed by the attention and gave them all a big smile as she gingerly made her way down the stairs. As she came down, a man broke away from the crowd and walked slowly to the bottom of the stairs. Once Amy saw him approaching, she tried to hurry her steps. The man had stopped and waited for her, and as soon as she set foot on the tarmac, he rushed to her and pulled her into his arms.  
  
'Amy honey.' He said as he pulled his daughter into his embrace.  
  
'Daddy, Daddy' Amy was saying over and over. His squeeze hurt her ribs and back, but she didn't care. He was here, she was home at last.  
  
When they pulled away from each other to face each other, there were tears on each of their faces. 'Ah, let me look at you.' Her father said, as he held her face in his hands. 'How are you? You look so thin and tired.' He said worriedly as he looked into her eyes. Eyes so like her mother's.  
  
'I'm fine now Daddy, really.' She assured him, feeling truly fine for the first time in weeks.  
  
One of the men in a suit came up and asked if Amy would make a statement, then there were cars here to take her home.  
  
Leaning on her father's arm, Amy walked slowly to the podium to say a few words. Clay watched all of this from the side. Watching Amy and her father together brought a lump to his throat, and he was glad he had put on his dark glasses, even if the sky was a bit overcast.   
  
Amy thanked everyone for the warm and unexpected welcome home. She was happy to be home, and was looking forward to getting back to work. She thanked the Marines who had found her, and hope they all come home soon too. 'Semper Fi' she said for those Marines with a smile. 'God Bless you all.' That was all she had to say, and then she grabbed her father again, and followed the "suits" to the waiting cars. Clay followed them too.  
  
As they were climbing into one of the sedans, Amy stopped, and turned to her father.   
  
'Daddy, I wanted to go over to the office and see Sarah MacKenzie and some other friends before I go home. Why don't you take one car and go over to my apartment, and I will be there shortly.'  
  
'Honey, you need some rest. Can't that wait for another day?' her father suggested. He did not like the way his daughter looked at all. Too pale and worn out he thought. He knew what she had been through, and now that she was home, he wanted to take care of her himself.  
  
'It will only be for a little while, I promise.' Amy said with a wane smile. She really did want to see Sarah and Harm, and she had all the time in the world to rest. She was too excited right now. 'I will be all right. Really.'  
  
Reluctantly, her father let her go into one car, and he stepped over to get into another. He saw one of the "suits" slip into the car with her. He was the same one that had been on the plane with her. Was that Webb? He thought. Amy's father knew he would find out soon enough.  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
1132 hours local time  
  
As Amy and Clay stepped off the elevator, the cheer went up again. This time from all her friends at JAG. They all applauded as Amy and Clay walked into the bull pen. A couple of people patted her on the back as she went past them, and Clay could hear her intake of breath, and feel her tighten her grip on his arm and hand as he helped her walk into the office. All these hugs and back slapping were going to be too much for her, Clay could already tell. But he wouldn't take this moment away from her for anything. She deserved it after all.  
  
Amy was all smiles, and opened her arms as soon as she saw Sarah, who gave her a big hug. Clay seemed to be the only one noticing Amy wincing in pain.   
  
'It is so good to see you!' Sarah said enthusiastically.   
  
'It is good to be seen.' Amy answered jokingly.  
  
'Here, let me give you a hug too.' Harm said, as he enfolded Amy in his arms. He noticed the pale skin and felt how thin she was when he held her, but did not say anything.  
  
Harriet and Bud Roberts came forward and also hugged her, welcoming her home. Both saying how proud they were of her. 'You look….Terrific!' Harriet said after a moment. She didn't think Amy looked well at all, but couldn't really say that. Harriet offered to get Amy some refreshments, and found a chair for her. Amy accepted both gratefully, and more chairs were brought around Amy as people sat down and started talking to her.   
  
Clay kept a watchful eye on everything, ready to step in and suggest he take Amy home at any sign from her that she had had enough.  
  
Just as people were settling in a voice rang out, 'Attention on deck.' Everyone came to attention as Admiral Chegwidden entered the room from his office. Amy slowly got up from the chair she had just sat down in. Injuries or not, she was in uniform and she stood to attention when an Admiral entered the room.   
  
Admiral Chegwidden watched her carefully get up, and hated to make her stand again, but he wanted to do something special, and she should be standing. He looked her, very seriously in the eye, and stood to attention himself. 'Major' he said. The room fell quiet waiting to see what would happen. In front of his entire command, Admiral AJ Chegwidden saluted Major Amelia Harris.  
  
This broke protocol on many different levels. First of all, one did not salute indoors, and certainly an Admiral did not offer to salute a junior officer first. The junior officer saluted him first. The Admiral did it to honor Amy. To offer her special recognition for what she had been through. And Amy was sincerely touched by this honor. With as much strength as she could, she stood straight, and saluted him back. When their arms were back at their sides, the Admiral said, 'Welcome home Major Harris. Semper Fi. Well done.'  
  
'Thank you Sir.' Amy said smiling. And everyone else in the room applauded once more. To quiet everyone down, and bring the gathering back to an informal feeling, AJ noticed Amy shoes. They were rather large white running shoes. They were the only ones she could stand on her sore feet at this point, but they did look a little silly with her dress uniform.  
  
With a pseudo serious expression on his face, the Admiral said. 'Major, those shoes are hardly uniform code.'  
  
Amy rolled her eyes, looking like a child caught by the principal. 'Well Sir. They are sort of medical issue. I beg the Admiral's pardon.'  
  
The Admiral nodded, and answered 'Granted'. He could not understand why she needed shoes for a medical purpose, but he certainly was not going to question her about it further. He saw that Harm and Clay had gone into Harm's office, and were talking, so he thought he would join them and try and get some more information on what had happened to Amy.  
  
Meanwhile, Sarah, Harriet and Amy were all talking together. Sarah had started asking Amy questions. 'I'm a sick to death of talking about me all the time. Tell me the news around here. What have I missed?' Amy asked trying to dodge questions she didn't want to answer right now.  
  
Harriet was all too eager to answer her question. 'The Commander has a new posting, and he and the Colonel are getting married.'  
  
'Congratulations! That's wonderful!' Amy said excitedly as she looked at her good friend. Amy was so happy for Sarah. 'Tell me all about it.'  
  
'Harriet!' Sarah chided her. 'I wanted to tell her myself!'  
  
'Well, go on. Tell her!' Harriet answered.  
  
And Sarah did. 'Harm is posted part time with the Sec Nav's office as Legal Advisor. The rest of the time he spends here at JAG trying and investigating cases, but he reports to the Sec Nav.'  
  
'So he is here working, but not in the same chain of command.' Amy surmised. 'Very handy. I'm so happy for you both.'  
  
'Yes, I'm happy for us too.' Sarah smiled warmly. 'It's almost too good to be true.'  
  
'And when is the wedding? When do I get to be a bridesmaid?' Amy asked pointedly.  
  
'How would 6 weeks be? Would you be up to it by then?' Sarah asked carefully. She saw how tired and weak Amy seemed. It hurt to see her friend this way. Amy was usually so bright and healthy and active. Sarah hoped she could still be that way soon.  
  
'Sarah, I was just kidding before. I don't have to be a bridesmaid.' Amy said sheepishly. Suddenly she felt bad, feeling she may have put Sarah in a corner.  
  
'No, I want you to be a bridesmaid. We were waiting for you get home a to be sure you could be here for the wedding.' Sarah assured her.  
  
'Thank you Sarah. I will be ready. It will give me something to work toward, right?' Amy said.  
  
'Absolutely.' Sarah agreed.  
  
'I only ask one thing. No backless dresses OK?' Amy asked. She tried to make it sound funny, but was really very serious. She was not ready to tell Sarah why right now.  
  
Sarah looked at her friend a little quizzically. She was not sure why Amy would make such a request, but she would honor it, whatever the reason. 'OK' she answered.  
  
In Harm's office, the three men looked at Amy from across the room. 'She looks so fragile.' Harm commented, referring to Amy.   
  
Clay had to agree. Fragile was just the word for Amy right now. 'She is fragile. But she has come such a long way all ready. When I saw her for the first time in the hospital bed…Harm, you wouldn't believe it. I hardly believe it.' Clay shook his head and turned to face his friend. 'The doctor described her as being black and blue from her head to her toes, and she was. They meant to beat her to death, and they almost succeeded.'  
  
'They beat her on her feet too?' the Admiral asked.  
  
Clay looked at him. He had heard the comment about the shoes, and hated to tell AJ the truth. 'The night she was taken, they marched all night over rocky terrain. They took away her boots, made her walk the whole way barefoot. Her feet are cut and infected AJ. Those are the only shoes she can wear right now, and even then it is hard for her to walk.'  
  
'Ah…cheez.' AJ wanted to eat his words from before. 'Why didn't you say something to me when I started? I feel like an idiot.'  
  
Clay smiled. 'It's OK AJ. She knows you were just joking with her. She also knows you are not aware of all of her injuries, and she won't hold it against you.'  
  
'Still.' AJ shook his head.  
  
'What were her injuries?' Harm asked. 'They were never published.  
  
'We didn't want the whole world to know. It's not really anyone's business what they did to her. Amy wants to keep it under wraps. It is embarrassing to her. She feels she should have fought them more, or tried to escape…' Clay stopped here. Amy was psychically getting better. But she still had a lot of feelings to work through, and he didn't want to go into that right now.  
  
'I don't think she would mind you knowing, you are her friends.' Clay said. 'They broke her arm, broke ribs, and bruised everything else they could get at. Her feet were abused, and the last night, to kill her, they whipped her with what we think was a leather strap of some kind. About 15 times.'  
  
Both Harm and AJ were discussed by this news. 'My God.' AJ said. 'They really did try to kill her, didn't they?' Harm said.  
  
Clay looked back out at Amy, talking with her friends. She was laughing, and smiling, more than he had ever seen her do in Baghdad. She may have been worn out from the trip, but this, seeing and talking with her friends, was the best medicine for her. 'When I think how close I came to loosing her…' Clay stopped. He wasn't sure he could trust his voice to finish the sentence that had run through his mind these past weeks. Harm laid a hand on his back to support his friend. He was happy for Clay and Amy. They seemed to have found one another again.  
  
Amy looked up and saw Clay watching her. He is never far away, she thought. He is always watching out for me. I do love him. She gave him a special smile. Then she sort of tossed her head toward the door, trying to give him a "high sign" to say, 'I'm ready to go now.'  
  
Clay caught the sign and was ready to go. He turned to Harm and AJ. 'I think I better get her home. It's been a long day already.'  
  
With that, the two of them said their goodbyes, thanked everyone for the party, and left, to take Amy home.  
  
Amy's Apartment  
  
Georgetown  
  
1206 hours local time  
  
With his arm around Amy, supporting her as she walked, Clay and Amy walked down the long hallway to her apartment door. It was a walk they both had looked forward to for weeks. Clay had kept his promise, to bring her home, and she was so glad to finally be here.  
  
'It's so good to be home. Thank you Clay.' Amy said sleepily.  
  
'My pleasure.' Clay said with a smile. 'Let's get you inside and into bed.'  
  
'Sure, the first thing you think of when you finally get me alone is to take me to bed.' She said jokingly.  
  
'I didn't mean that at all.' Clay said worriedly. He knew he could not stay with her, as much as he may want to. And he knew it would be a while before they could be intimate, as much as he wanted that too.   
  
'I'm just kidding.' She said, as the door opened, and there stood her father.  
  
Ralph Harris looked the two of them over, with a very disapproving look. The kind of look that parents perfect early, and use on their children for their whole lives. Clay got the distinct impression he was not going to be very welcome in the apartment, and felt as if he had brought his prom date home late, after curfew.  
  
Clay looked at the older man. A man in his 60's probably. Still fit, still had a lot of hair, though it was quite gray. Not very tall, but still carried himself well, no stooping from old age yet. A kind face, most of the time. This was not one of those times. Clay was not sure what Amy's father was angry about, but he had the feeling he was going to find out. Clay just wanted to help Amy in to bed, and make a quick, but polite exit.  
  
'Daddy' Amy said brightly as she moved pasted him into the apartment. She walked inside her home, and just closed her eyes, and let it all sink inside her. She looked around, and found everything was just the way she had left it. There was a pillow and quilt on the couch, neatly folded and sitting at one end. Dad must be sleeping there she thought to herself. Otherwise everything was just the same. Her home. She wanted nothing more than to just sit down and enjoy it. But Clay and her father were here, and she was too tired. She would go and lay down for a nap, and get up later and sit in here and talk to her Dad, get all the news from home, and just enjoy.  
  
She did not notice the tense quiet behind her, but did remember that she had introductions to make. 'Oh, I'm sorry.' She began, turning to the men standing behind her, watching each other. 'Dad, this is Clayton Webb. I've told you about him, and Clay, this is my father, Ralph Harris.'  
  
Clay carefully held out his hand to the older man. 'Mr. Harris.'  
  
Ralph Harris made no move to shake hands with him.  
  
Amy was still not picking up on the animosity that was brewing behind her between her father and Clay. She was too tired, and to wrapped up in the joy of being in her own place again. She was weak and wanted to change and lay down for a while, and started moving to her bedroom.  
  
'Clay will you help me change before you go?' Amy asked. Since he had been with her everyday at the hospital, she was used to having his help and did not think it awkward to ask for his help now.  
  
As Clay made a move toward her saying, 'Yes,…' Amy's father moved to block his way, never taking his eyes off Clay. It was just a one small step, but it was enough.  
  
He said in an overly loud, challenging voice 'Hasn't he done enough?' He looked at his daughter, who now could tell something was very wrong. 'I'll help you, honey.'  
  
'Daddy, it's all right, really, Clay knows….' Amy started to explain, but her father ignored her, and turned his anger to Clay.  
  
'We don't need your help.' He sneered.  
  
'Mr. Harris, I…  
  
'Get out'  
  
'Daddy, please,…'  
  
'He's done enough, Amy.' He said to her, then turned to Clay. 'You said you loved her, and then broke your heart. She called me crying her eyes out one night, telling me she was in love, but the man had pushed her away. That was you, wasn't it? Then you drag her half way around the world to a war zone, and leave her there, in the hands of butchers who try to kill her! What kind of man are you?' The angry words came rushing out. He had waited a long time to talk to this man, and now he wanted some answers.   
  
Clay's voice rose in volume too, though he tried to stay calm. 'I didn't want to leave her. I would have taken her place if they had let me. I wanted to take her place. I tried everything I could, everything I was allowed to do to find her…' he wanted to explain this to her father, as well as himself. He wanted to reassure himself that he had indeed done everything that he could. This man's accusations were no more than what he had told himself countless times over the past weeks.  
  
'It wasn't enough, was it?' Mr. Harris shouted. 'Now you want back in? You want to hurt her more? I won't stand for it.' He turned back to Amy, 'Amy I won't stand by..  
  
But Amy was crumpled on the floor crying. 'Stop it, stop yelling, please, stop it.'  
  
The two men gave up their shouting match, and moved to help her. Dad reached her first. Clay had not felt so helpless since first seeing her in the hospital. She was worn out, and needed some rest, and here he was, picking a fight with her father. The shouting must have affected her somehow, and he was helpless to comfort her.  
  
One minute Amy was happy and in her own apartment. The next minute, when her father and Clay were shouting at each other, she was in that room, and Kharrat was shouting at her. 'Where is the base? Where are the Marines? Tell me or I will hurt you again!' It happened instantly, and she had no defense for it. She didn't know what to do. Instinctively she curled up on the floor to protect herself.  
  
Ralph knelt on the floor beside Amy, gathered her in his arms, like only a father can, and talked soothingly to her. 'Its all right, I'm here honey. Shhh, it's ok.' He stood up with her, talking to her, and calming her, and started down the hallway to her bedroom. 'I'll take it from her Webb.' He said quietly.  
  
That made Amy turn. She was home, and Clay was here. 'Clay' she called, and reached out to him with her good arm. He took her hand and held it a moment.  
  
'Call me tomorrow. Please. I have gotten used to having you around everyday.' She said with a wane smile. More than that, she had gotten used to him watching over her, he kept the demons away.  
  
'I will.' Clay promised.  
  
Ralph turned Amy away, and walked with her down the hall, closing the door behind them.  
  
Clay accepted the 'subtle' hint for him to leave. He looked around the apartment once more. The home coming was not what he had wished it to be, but it was time to go. He would work out something with Mr. Harris eventually. He and Amy were together again, and no one was going to come between them now.  
  
Clay left the building reluctantly. The government car was still there, waiting for him. He got in the back, and gave them directions to his home in Alexandria. As he sat back for the ride, he thought about all the crimes Mr. Harris had accused him of, they were no different than what he blamed himself for. He broke her heart, pushed her away. Put Amy in danger, then left her alone to die. God, he had come so close to losing her.  
  
He had to stop blaming himself. Amy was going to be all right, and they were together, and would work things out. They just needed time. Alone, together, when she wasn't struggling to live. She was better now, and would get stronger, and then they could work on their relationship, whatever that would be. Clay had no doubts this time where he wanted their relationship to go. He would marry her, and love her the rest of his life. He just had to convince her of that. And convince himself that it would work.  
  
CIA Headquarters  
  
Langley, VA   
  
1425 hours local time  
  
Clayton Webb made his way down the hall of doorways. All the doors lead to small rooms. "Conference" rooms they were called at Langley, but they were not the same kind of conference rooms found anywhere else in America. These rooms all had an adjoining room, and there was a mirror in between them. These were interrogation rooms, or in this case, debriefing rooms.  
  
Amy was in one, with one other person, talking about what had happened to her in Iraq. It had been two weeks since she had come home, and was doing better every day. These debriefing sessions were hard on her, Clay knew. Talking about everything that happened, in minute detail, makes it seem to the person that it is all happening to them over again. He had been there, and it was not something one enjoyed. Over the weeks of her recuperation, she had buried a lot of her feelings, and tried to forget what happened. It is only natural. But she had to let it all out. It was for her own good. She knew that, and had been very brave about talking of her experience. Clay had been very proud of her.  
  
At first he had sat in on the debriefings, behind the mirror where Amy could not see him. She still did not want to have to discuss this to his face, and he respected that. After the first few hours or so, he found that he couldn't sit through it. When she cried, he wanted to comfort her, when she described how they had hurt her, he wanted to kill them, or step in and protect her. He was angered and appalled when she described the cold nights she had spent with no clothes, shivering in the dark. Since that first afternoon, he had not been back. He thought he knew enough. When the time came, when he had captured these people, he would review the records then, and lock them up for the rest of their natural lives.  
  
Amy split her time between Langley, and Bethesda Naval Hospital, receiving therapy and regaining her strength. Her feet were getting better, and her arm was healing nicely. She would not need surgery, just therapy, and eventually would regain full use of the arm, possibly bring it back to 100%. This was good news, since she wished to return to active duty with the Marines as soon as possible. Clay encouraged her to take her time. He had gone back too quickly, and regretted it later. But that was all in the past.  
  
He was concentrating on the present right now, specifically tonight. Clay was picking her up after her debriefing, and taking her to his home, and cooking dinner for the two of them. It will be the first time they were really alone since he had broken things off with her all those months ago. It was time to really make up, he thought. He knew Amy may not be ready to be intimate with him, but Clay hoped they could at least begin a little. A quiet dinner, good music, good conversation, it will be like it used to be. He hoped.  
  
Clay was thinking about how the evening would go, and did not notice the man sitting outside the room until he was right beside him. Clay looked down at the face of Amy's father. The two men had not seen each other since Amy's first day home, and their argument at her apartment. Clay had called Amy, and most of the time, her father had let her come to the phone to talk to him. But Clay was sure that on a few occasions, Mr. Harris had screened her calls, and made excuses that she could not come to the phone at that moment, and took a message, that Amy had never received. Clay had not expected to see him here today, and promised himself not to have another scene with Mr. Harris. He would walk away, and come to get Amy later. Nothing was going to spoil tonight for them.  
  
Mr. Harris looked up at Clay. 'Mr. Webb.' He said, acknowledging Clay with a nod.  
  
Clay returned the flat greeting in kind, 'Mr. Harris.' He sat down in the other chair beside Mr. Harris, ready to get up again and leave at the slightest hint of a provocation.  
  
'She still inside?' Clay asked, even though he could see Amy through the narrow window in the side of the door. He was going to at least try and be polite.  
  
'Yes.' Came the answer. 'I hate taking her to these sessions.' Mr. Harris stated. 'It's like living through it all over again for her. She comes out exhausted.'  
  
'Yes, I know.' Clay said. 'But it is good for her to talk about it, get it all out.' Clay tried to explain.  
  
Mr. Harris cut in, 'I want to be in there with her. Give her some moral support, ya know? She won't let me. Says she doesn't want me to know all the details. I know some of what happened. And I have seen the scars they left on her. Animals. She says that's enough. Knowing all of it would only hurt.' Mr. Harris was having trouble understanding everything his daughter had gone through, and was still going through. But he was determined that she get whatever help she needed. If she didn't want him to know everything, then so be it. She may be right. It would hurt too much to know everything. 'These sessions bring on nightmares, did you know that?' he asked angrily. He wasn't really mad at Webb, just ….mad at everything.  
  
Amy had not told Clay about any nightmares. God knew he understood nightmares, knew that they were painful and unsettling, but also, a necessary part of the process. 'No, I didn't know about the nightmares.' He said.  
  
'Why aren't you in there with her?' Mr. Harris asked, accusingly. He thought someone should be in there to help Amy, and if these two were in love, why wasn't Clay offering his support? He wanted to know.  
  
'Same reason you're not.' Clay answered simply.  
  
Mr. Harris lost his head of steam at that answer. Just like Amy, he thought, to face things on her own.  
  
The two men sat quietly for a moment.  
  
Mr. Harris turned in his seat and faced Clay. 'I know when I am wrong, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I owe you an apology Webb.'  
  
Clay stopped him, 'You don't owe me anything Mr. Harris. You didn't voice anything I didn't feel all ready…'  
  
'No' Mr. Harris interjected, 'Amy explained a few things about you. And your friend, Harmon Rabb, he came over to visit Amy the other day. He told us both how you were ready to give yourself up in her place, was ready to go with her and protect her.'  
  
'Rabb stopped me.' Clay admitted. 'I was ready to go in her place.'   
  
'Amy also told me your experience in South America. You are a brave man, and I give you credit for that.' Mr. Harris stated.  
  
Clay was taken aback at this. People had been proud of him, or impressed by what he had gone through, but no one had ever called him brave to his face before. He wasn't sure he was brave, but it meant a lot to him somehow to have this man, consider him brave. 'Thank you Mr. Harris. I would have done everything I could for her sir. I did do everything I was allowed to do, though it was damn little.' Clay confessed.  
  
'I know.' Mr. Harris said. 'She is safe now, and getting better. She will be all right, that's all that matters now.'  
  
They could both see that Amy was still talking, at least she wasn't crying, that usually tore Mr. Harris apart when he saw her crying in there. It may be a while, so he decided to keep a conversation going with Webb. This man was probably going to be around a while, might as well try and get to know him, he thought.  
  
'Amy told me your father worked for the Agency too.'  
  
'Yes.'   
  
'Died in the service, right?'   
  
There was no answer to this question, Mr. Harris let it go.  
  
'And you still joined?' Mr. Harris asked.  
  
'Yes, it was what I wanted to do, I assure you, Mr. Harris.' Clay said sincerely. 'You don't really approve of me, do you Mr. Harris?'  
  
'You live a dangerous life Webb.' Came the answer. 'But my daughter loves you, and is willing to live with your job if she is going to love you.'  
  
'She tell you that?' Clay asked surprised.  
  
'Yes.'  
  
Clay decided to go out on a limb. 'I asked her to marry me, Mr. Harris.'  
  
'What did she say?' Mr. Harris said interested. This was the first he had heard of this, but figured this relationship may be headed that way.  
  
'She said we had some things to work out. She didn't say "Yes" but she didn't say "No" either.' Clay answered honestly.   
  
Mr. Harris chuckled at this. 'That's my girl. Always keeping them guessing.' He paused. 'You broke her heart once. You do it again and you will answer to me, fair enough?' He asked seriously.  
  
Somehow Clay knew that he would indeed one day answer to this man if he hurt his daughter again. 'Fair enough.' Clay answered.   
  
They were both quiet again, watching Amy through the narrow window. 'This man in there with her, he any good?' Mr. Harris asked. 'Does he know what he is doing? He has any experience with prisoners or hostages?'   
  
Clay reassured him. 'I brought him in especially to talk to Amy. He has plenty of experience. 444 days worth to be exact.' Clay said cryptically.  
  
'444 days worth?' Mr. Harris asked.  
  
'He was one of the American Hostages in Iran in 1979. He knows.' Clay stated.  
  
'Oh.' Mr. Harris said, surprised and impressed.  
  
'Amy doesn't know that, by the way. It is better if she doesn't know right now, so keep it to yourself. He likes to keep that private.' Clay warned him.  
  
'Yes. Of course.' Mr. Harris said.  
  
'You taking her out tonight? She will be pretty tired..' Mr. Harris knew they were having dinner together, and figured what would happen after dinner. He wasn't sure Amy was ready for that, and he wasn't sure he approved of it, but he also knew he couldn't dictate his daughter's behavior any more.  
  
'I am cooking dinner at my home.' Clay answered.  
  
'You cook?' Mr. Harris asked, impressed.  
  
'Yes, sometimes. I haven't starved or killed myself or anyone else yet.' he the answered. Both men smiled at that.  
  
Mr. Harris was not afraid of being blunt with his thoughts, even if he couldn't tell his daughter what to do; these two could at least understand his wishes. 'You going to bring her home after dinner?'   
  
Clay smiled. OK, he thought, I understand. 'I thought Amy was old enough that she didn't have to come home by curfew, Mr. Harris.' Clay answered, with a smile.  
  
'You might as well start calling me Ralph.' He said. And, I might as well give in to you, he thought.  
  
'OK, Ralph.' Clay was touched.  
  
'You're a good man, Webb, I trust you will treat her right.'  
  
'Thank you, Ralph.' Having this man's trust meant a lot to him. 'And it's Clay.'  
  
'Clay.' Ralph tried it out. 'Just take it slow, all right?' Ralph said as he stood up to leave.  
  
'You are still not really sure about me are you Ralph?' Clay asked, looking up at him.  
  
Ralph got a big smile on his face. 'Clay, if you are every lucky enough to have a daughter, you will understand. No matter who it is, a father will never completely approve of the man "who is doing it" to his little girl.' With that, he turned and walked down the hallway to go home.  
  
Clay watched him go, with a big smile on his face, shaking his head. No, he thought, I suppose not.  
  
Clayton Webb's Townhouse  
  
Arlington, VA  
  
2030 hours local time  
  
Clay and Amy enjoyed a light supper, and Amy even splurged and had a glass of wine. With all the medication she had been taking lately, she had stayed away from any alcohol but thought tonight was special, and she felt like breaking a few rules. She also was very nervous, knew she shouldn't be, but could not stop herself. She took another sip of the delicious wine right now to try and relax.  
  
Soft music was playing in the background; Amy had not paid too much attention to it until now. She sat back to listen while Clay finished clearing things up in the kitchen. One disc ended, and she heard the soft whirl of the CD player as the next disc moved into place. She heard the opening strains of the Waltz from Sleeping Beauty, and a smile came to her face.   
  
Clay had moved in front of her as the music began, and quietly asked, 'May I have this dance?' he held out his hand, and helped her to her feet. He put his arms around her and they slowly started swaying around the room, looking into each other's eyes.   
  
'I miss dancing with you.' He said.  
  
'Mmmm, me too.' She agreed. 'Do you remember our first date?'  
  
'I took you to see Sleeping Beauty, at the National Ballet.' He answered dutifully.  
  
'No, not that one. The one in Moscow.' She corrected with a smile.  
  
'Oh, yes, the Embassy ball. I think I fell in love with you that night. I just didn't accept it.' Clay confessed.  
  
'And then you left the country the next day. Breaking our next date. Oh it was love all right.' She chided him.  
  
'And then when we met up again in Washington, I got to fall in love with you all over again.' He continued with a smile, ignoring her remark.  
  
'And after accepting it, you got scared, and pushed me away.' She gently reminded him. She was enjoying the game. He may have fallen in love with her over and over again, but she had fallen the one time, in Moscow, and it had stuck.  
  
'And now I have come to my senses, realized my mistakes, asked forgiveness, and I get to fall in love with you all over again.' He finished with a flourish and laugh.   
  
'Will you change your mind again?' she asked.  
  
'No.'  
  
'Push me away?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Run away screaming in fear?' she asked with a laugh in her voice.  
  
'No. "A ma vie de coer entier." Amy.' He said, stopping their dancing and holding her tight very serious now. 'You have my whole heart for my whole life, Amy. I can promise you that. I can't promise you I will always be here when you need me, and I can't promise that you will know where I am or when I will be back, but I can promise you my love for always.'  
  
'That's enough.' She whispered, close to tears. 'Clay…'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Are you going to take me home tonight?'  
  
'Do you want to go home?' he asked and started moving to the music with her again.  
  
'No.' she answered, 'But, Clay…'  
  
'Amy, if you are not ready, I will sleep on the couch. I will do whatever you want, but, I want to be with you tonight.' He told her.  
  
'I want you with me too. But I'm afraid.' She said, and couldn't stop the tear that slid down her cheek.  
  
'Afraid of what?' Clay asked concerned.  
  
She took a deep breath. She had been worried about this for a long time, and to finally say it out loud seemed to make it so unimportant, but still,…. 'I'm afraid I am not beautiful any more. There are marks on me, scars, and…' and another tear fell.  
  
'No. Amy don't cry, you are beautiful. You always were, and still are to me, nothing would change that. Will you let me show you how beautiful your are to me?'  
  
All she could do was nod, and they both walked into the bedroom.  
  
Clay began by kissing the top of her head, light gentle kisses. Then moved to her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, which made her smile, then her lips. There he lingered, tasting, savoring. He breathed in her sent, filled his hands with her hair. The kiss grew more heated, and he had to pull away. He didn't want to rush this, he wanted more than anything to take his time.  
  
He pulled away from her, and moved his hands to the front of her blouse. He began unbuttoning the small pearl buttons, and then pulled the material off her shoulders. When they were bare, he began the light kisses again. Following down the long line of her neck to the top of her shoulder, to the top of her arm, replacing the touch of his warm hand with his lips. The blouse slipped to the floor.  
  
She just stood there. Enjoyed the feel of his hands on her cool skin. Her heart was racing, and her breathing grew deeper. Each new area he kissed was a new surprise. The heat grew from where he touched her, to move like hot syrup down to her core, to pool there and radiate out.  
  
Clay turned her around, and he unfastened her bra strap. Then, moved his hand up and down her back, looking for the first time at her scars.   
  
Amy used her arms to hold her bra in place on the front, waiting for his reaction. He was a better man than to react in distaste or disgust. And he knew they were there, had probably even seen the photos, so it should not be a surprise, but she waited anyway.   
  
'I'm so sorry.' He whispered quietly, and bent to kiss some of the marks.  
  
'The doctor said they will fade more in time.' Amy tried to reassure him and herself. He voice sounding overly loud in the dim room.  
  
'I'm not worried.' He said sincerely, and turned her around to face him again. 'You are beautiful.' And he followed up the statement of fact with a kiss that heated both their blood even more.  
  
He brought her to the bed, pulled back the covers and laid her down. He too off his shirt, and lay down beside her. Clay was gentle and took his time. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.   
  
It was not a night of passion, or ecstasy, or climbing and reaching new heights.  
  
It was a night of love, of forgiving, and being forgiving. Of rediscovery, reawakening of their love for one another. A new beginning.  
  
Amy fell deeply asleep in his arms, and trying to disturb her too much, Clay pulled up the covers, around them as best he could. Poor woman was exhausted from the long day, and barely stirred. It was out of character for Clay to be in bed this early. But there was nothing on this earth that would move him from this bed, from her side, while holding her in his arms again.   
  
He silently thanked God, for the miracle he had prayed for that night, so long ago.  
  
End Chapter 7. 


	8. Waiting for the other shoe

Author: Claire Vincent Date June 2004  
  
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13 Classification: JAG - Story Webb/other Romance - Adventure Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
Chapter 8 Webb Odyssey  
  
Chapter 8 Waiting for the other shoe to drop  
  
Clayton Webb was restless. For the third night in a row, he was up wandering around his townhouse in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. It wasn't nightmares that were keeping him awake, or any particular worry. Just the feeling....something was about to happen.  
  
Well, he told himself, something was about to happen. You are getting married in two days! But the needling in the back of his mind and the tingle down his back wasn't only at the prospect of marring the woman he loved, or beginning his life with her here, and all the "fringe benefits" that included, he thought with a sly smile. No, it was more like the feeling he got in the field, like he was being followed, or watched, or...he had better keep his wits about him because something was about the happen. The other shoe was about to drop.  
  
Maybe it was his suspicious side coming through. Or his fatalist attitude that something would go wrong. He wasn't allowed to be this happy, have this great life open before him. He would have to pay for it, somehow. But what could go wrong? The wedding was all set, everything was in place. The guests from out of town had arrived today, Mother's garden looked beautiful, and the chairs and bower were set up already, the food was ordered, the wedding party had everything they needed...So why was he so edgy?  
  
He sat down on the couch, picked up a book he had been reading off and on lately, when time allowed. It was on the best sellers list, a historical survey of the Chairmen of the Soviet Union, and the times they had influenced. He had enjoyed reading it so far, a non-fiction book that read like a good spy novel. He supposed anyway, he did not read spy novels, but tonight the Soviet history book did not hold his attention. His mind wandered to that day at the beach....  
  
It had been a beautiful day in the city, sunny and warm, hot really for early summer. They had planned a picnic at the beach. Their first trip to the beach since Amy had been home. She had packed the food, and they set off south and east. At the coast the temperatures dropped, and they were glad they had brought their windbreakers.  
  
It wasn't too crowded. They settled in a spot up from the waves, and just sat back to enjoy the scenery. They had walked in the sand some, Amy even took off her shoes with Clay, and let the water play around her feet and ankles. They were fully healed now, and gave her no problems. Clay was happy to see her relaxed and playful again. She looked beautiful. She was almost back to her old self.  
  
They had talked of many different things. How Amy was ready to go back to work, at least she thought so. The Marine Corps said she could come back at part time duty, and were trying to find somewhere to put her. The position at Home Land Security had been taken over by someone else, full time, and there were no positions there part time right now. Amy was frustrated by the delay of getting back to work, but Clay and the doctors told her to take it easy. Things would work out eventually, and she might as well enjoy the rest. Since she had the time off, Amy had decided to go home to Wisconsin, to the farm, for a couple of weeks. It was so peaceful there, and she felt the need to make that contact with home. Clay understood this, but he hated to see her go away, even for a couple of weeks. This would be their last day together before she left.  
  
As the day slowly waned to dusk, Amy dropped some hints that they should be heading back. But Clay had one more thing to do on their picnic. 'I have something to give you before we leave.' He said.  
  
'What's that?' asked Amy.  
  
'I thought I would sweeten the pot.' Clay said.  
  
Amy didn't know what to make of this answer, and she looked at him questioningly.  
  
Clay reached into his inside coat pocket, and pulled out a ring box. 'I didn't have this the last time I asked you, so this time I came prepared.'  
  
He opened the box, and there was the most beautiful emerald cut diamond Amy had ever seen, and the largest.  
  
She didn't know what to say. 'Oh, Clay.' Was all she could come up with. It was a complete surprise.  
  
'Will you marry me, Amy? Make a life with me?'  
  
She looked up into his eyes, usually so clear, and confident, but now, suddenly, a little misty, and a little worried.  
  
She knew her answer, but was afraid, afraid of the life it would lead to, but she loved him. And she felt sad at the fear in his eyes as he asked.  
  
'Yes, Clay. I'll marry you. I'm afraid all of a sudden.' She said around the lump in her throat.  
  
'Oh, Amy.' He said, as he gathered her in his arms. 'We don't have to be afraid of anything ever again. Either one of us.'  
  
They sat like that a moment, reassuring each other in silence. Then he pulled away, and said 'Here, why don't you try this on.' Taking the ring out of the box.  
  
'Now, if you don't like the setting, or...anything, we can go and pick out something you like better. I really didn't know...' he started nervously. He had picked the ring out alone, and not told anyone, even though it had been a hard secret to keep from his mother. But he wanted it to be a surprise for her, and for Amy.  
  
Amy slipped it on her hand. It looked a little big there, she wasn't used to it, but loved it. It was beautiful, and belonged there on her left hand. 'I love it.' She stated through the tears. 'I wouldn't change a thing. It even fits perfectly.' And it did.  
  
From that day on, time had flown by in a whirlwind. They had gone back to Clay's Mother's house to share the good news with her. Amy had asked Clay on the drive over if he would consider holding the ceremony in his Mother's garden behind the house. Amy had always dreamed of a garden wedding, ever since she was a little girl, playing in her grandmother's garden. Amy was concerned however, that such a request would put too much pressure on Porter, when maybe the mother of the groom would rather sit back and enjoy the festivities.  
  
Clayton assured Amy that holding the ceremony in the garden, and having a simple reception at the house afterwards, would be his mother's greatest wish.  
  
'Don't think another minute about it. My Mother would be in her element, and would love to hold the wedding there. She would be almost hurt if we didn't.'  
  
And Clay was right. Porter was having the time of her life helping Amy with all the wedding arrangements. Since Amy did not have any sisters, and had lost her mother, she was more than happy to share the planning of the wedding with Porter. The two of them had gotten along together so well, more like a couple of sisters than a Mother-in-law-to-be and Daughter-in- law. Clay had sat back, and just enjoyed watching them with all the details. He offered answers when they consulted him for his opinion, though it was not very often. In the middle of it all, Harm had confided in him, since he had just finished with his wedding, that 'The wedding is for the women, Clay. All you have to do is show up, look nice, and say I do.'  
  
Looking back on all the planning, Clay certainly agreed with Harm. Now it was just two days....looking at the clock he amended that. One day before he would show up and say I DO. If the wedding was for the women, the honeymoon was for him to plan.  
  
He just wanted to get away alone with Amy. Someplace nice, relaxing, close to some water, and just be together. Someplace they could stay in bed all day if they wanted, and that was defiantly on the agenda as far as he was concerned. He felt he had found the perfect spot, at a resort in Vermont. Used mostly for skiing in the winter, it boasted hiking trails, a lake where they could do some sailing, and swimming, but most importantly it boasted private, secluded cabins. It had been recommended by a friend at the Agency, and as soon as he had seen it described on the web site, he booked it. It was perfect.  
  
With happy thoughts of long walks in the woods, or swimming and lying on the beach with his bride, and the secluded cabin...Clay went back to his bedroom, to try and get some sleep before dawn.  
  
Webb Residence Great Falls, VA 1600 hours  
  
And so it begins, Amy thought. The wedding, in her mind at least, it starts here, with the rehearsal. After this, there is a dinner party at Porter's club, for the wedding party and other special guests, then some sleep. Right, like she was going to be able to sleep tonight, she smiled to herself. Then tomorrow it was up bright and early, getting her hair done, and then going to the house to get dressed. Then the wedding, and reception after. Looking around the garden now, everything was going to be perfect. The late summer roses were blooming, the gladiolas were tall and bright, the chairs and bower were in place.  
  
The wedding party was gathering here to go through the order of the ceremony and where they should be, and what to do. After that, they would drive over to the club for the dinner. Everyone was here, Sarah, as matron of honor since her own wedding two months ago to Harm. Harm was also here, he was best man. Amy's brother Peter and his wife Denise and their two children, Mary Margaret or Molly, and Benjamin were here also, running among the flower beds and chairs. Molly at "almost six" as she kept telling everyone, was to be the flower girl, and 3 year old Ben was ring bearer. Amy was still not sure the little boy would go through with his job, and if he backed out at the last minute that would be fine. She just wanted to include him, as long as his big sister was involved too.  
  
Her brother Peter looked a little uncomfortable. He was much more comfortable on a farm, around his patients, cattle, than a formal garden. He was talking with Harm and Sarah, and trying to keep the children from trampling the flowers. His wife Denise, 8 months pregnant with niece or nephew #3, looked more uncomfortable on the small folding chair. Although she seemed to be talking pleasantly with Porter, who was already falling in love with the two small children, and trying to spoil them with treats ever since they had arrived.  
  
Amy smiled at that. She was not sure how Porter would get along with her niece and nephew. They were good children, and Amy loved them dearly. But she was apprehensive about bringing them to this beautiful home. It just did not seem the place for kids, and Porter, always so proper, and gracious, had seemed the type to expect that children were to be seen and not heard. Amy had been completely wrong. Porter was open and even playful with Molly and Ben, and in the short time they had been here this afternoon, they had already decided that Porter was a new and accepted friend. Amy should have expected this, since she had seen Clay with the children weeks ago, back in Wisconsin.......  
  
Amy had gone home to the farm in Central Wisconsin to rest after finishing her lengthy debriefing at CIA. She had spent time with her family, and seen a lot of friends in town over the two week period. But when Clay flew out to spend the last weekend with her, and fly back home with her, she was ready to go back to Washington, and start in earnest with the wedding plans.  
  
Clay had not really wanted to come to Wisconsin, but Amy had insisted he come and see where she grew up before the wedding. She wanted him to know he was marring a Midwest girl, and what that meant. Clay looked very uneasy as he got out of the rental car at the farm, still wearing a dress shirt and tie. He at least had shed the coat and vest.  
  
Once he had changed, and walked around the place he seemed to relax. When Ralph had taken him out to the barn to see the horses that were boarded there, Clay finally felt at home. Horses he knew, and a couple of these were beauties. He felt he had found some common ground with his father-in- law-to-be when they could talk about horses. Amy was glad to see this, for both Clay and her father's sake.  
  
They had gone to a town fish fry, held at the local Veteran's Hall, where Clay was given his first taste of the local delicacy, Walleye. He loved it. He also met half the town that night. Everyone that attended the dinner, seemed to make their way to the Harris' table, and say Hello to Amy, or welcome her home, or say how proud they were of her for staying tough in Iraq. Amy appreciated the support, but was also a little embarrassed for Clay. Once they had greeted her, and her father or brother, who was the area large animal veterinarian, they eyed Clay and said, 'Oh, so you must be Amy's young man.' Or 'you must be Amy's fiancé.' The next inevitable question was 'And what do you do, Clay?'  
  
Amy always smiled at that question, it was fun watching Clay squirm a little as he said very seriously, 'I work for the government' and try and impress on the other person that was all the answer they were going to get.  
  
After an evening of people stopping by to say hello, Molly took it upon herself to explain to Clay why everyone was coming to their table. This new "Uncle Clay" may not understand what was going on, and Molly thought she should bring him into the family secret.  
  
'Uncle Clay,' she began. 'Did you know my Auntie Amy was a hero?'  
  
Clay, who was still trying to get used to talking to someone 3 feet tall, sort of looked at Amy for guidance, and Amy just smiled and let him fend for himself with the 5 year old. 'A hero?' Everyone at the table stopped talking and sat listening to the conversation, to see what would happen.  
  
'Yes,' Molly said seriously. 'When she was doing her Marine job, some bad men took her away and locked her up, and wouldn't let her play outside, or anything.' Molly was repeating how things had been explained to her when Amy came home and was not quiet herself yet. The playing outside was her addition, but she thought it fit, and described very well how awful it was for her Auntie Amy. 'They hit her too.' Molly added confidentially, to keep it between her and Uncle Clay.  
  
'Yes, they did hit her.' Clay replied. He was surprised the little girl knew all of this, but it was probably hard to keep everything away from children. Molly obviously loved Amy, and wanted to know why she had been hurt.  
  
'My teacher says we should not hit others. Auntie Amy should have told those bad men to stop, then she could have come and told my daddy or Grandpa, and then the bad men would have been in big trouble.'  
  
Clay could have laughed at that, but the little girl was so serious, he wouldn't dream of it. Molly looked convinced that it should have been that easy to take care of the problem. Daddy or Grandpa would have taken care of those bad men for sure. Clay decided to let Molly in on a little secret of his own.  
  
'Your teacher is right, you shouldn't hit others. But I'll tell you.' And he dropped his voice a little to make it a secret between them, though the rest of the table was able to hear. 'Your Daddy wasn't there, and Grandpa wasn't there. But when your Auntie Amy came home, she told me and my friends, and we are like police men that work all over the world, and we are going to find those bad men that hurt Amy, and put them in jail.'  
  
Molly was impressed by this. 'Wow, you can really do that?' Clay nodded. 'You must really love her.'  
  
Clay looked across the table at Amy who was smiling at him. 'I really do.' He said.  
  
'I love you too.' Molly said, throwing her arms around Clay's neck and almost knocking him off the chair in her exuberance.  
  
From that time on, Molly thought Clay was Prince Charming, and a Knight in Shining armor all rolled into one. Clay was flattered and a little confused at being accepted so easily. Ben thought he was pretty cool too, since he found out Clay could ride horses. Just like that, Clay was a hero too in the children's eyes and he decided children were not so hard to understand after all.  
  
The memory of this was floating through Amy's head as they were waiting for Clay to arrive from the office for rehearsal. He was late, and she couldn't understand why.  
  
Clay was just coming from the house at this point. He had stayed at the office because things were beginning to come together on the search for Kharrat and Hessid. Intel was flooding in, they were getting close to what might be the location of one of their hideouts. Clay should have stayed and watched things as they developed, but everyone knew he was getting married tomorrow, and leaving for his honeymoon and they assured him they could handle everything while he was gone. Go get married, they had said as they lead him to the door.  
  
He was here now, and everything would begin. He might as well get used to leaving the office, at the office, and come home to his wife. He was going to have start this sooner or later.  
  
As soon as he made his appearance in the garden, the children ran to him, and threw themselves at him. He bent down and gave them both hugs, and greeted them with kisses and tickling. What was an Uncle for after all?  
  
The group in general smiled at the sight. Harm especially was interested. 'I've never seen this side of Webb.' He said to Mac. 'Oh, I knew he had it in him.' She answered with a smile. She hoped Clay and Amy would be able to have a family, she thought Clay would make a wonderful father.  
  
Webb Residence Great Falls, VA 1340 hours local time  
  
The day of the wedding dawned cloudy and dull. Not a good sign.  
  
By noon, the clouds had moved out, and the sky was a brilliant blue, and sun shown down brightly on Mrs. Webb's garden. Sunlight dappled gently on the lawn and the chairs arranged for the guests, the flower beds were in perfect condition and everything was ready.  
  
Porter Webb couldn't be happier. Clayton was marring a wonderful girl. Porter was already an adopted Grandmother by Amy's niece and nephew. And she secretly hoped it would not be long before she had her very own grandchild to spoil. The only thing dampening her happiness was that Neville was not here to share it. There had been so many things he missed, and she felt his absence so much on these important occasions. But she was about to include him, or his memory at least, right now.  
  
She knocked politely on Clayton's bedroom door, and entered to find her son, and his best man taking care of their final preparations. Clayton was wearing his tuxedo, and Commander Rabb was in his full dress whites. They both looked very handsome.  
  
'Clayton, you look wonderful.' She said, as she approached him.  
  
'Thank you Mother. You look beautiful.'  
  
'I hope not. Only the bride has a right to look beautiful today.' She said jokingly. "Clayton, I wanted to talk to you about something.'  
  
'Yes, Mother?'  
  
'Last night at the rehearsal, you did not use your legal name in exchanging the vows.' His mother stated.  
  
Clay sighed. He was afraid of this. 'It's too long, Mother, too ostentatious.'  
  
'Clayton, it is your legal name, and this is a legally binding ceremony, as well as a religious one, and you should use all your legal names.' Mothers have a way of listing facts to make their children do what they wish them to do. Clayton had hoped he was beyond that now. He was getting married today after all. But her tone of voice still got to him. He wasn't going to win this one.  
  
Harm spoke up, 'All?' he asked.  
  
Clay gave him a warning look. 'Don't ask Harm.'  
  
Porter answered Harm's question. 'Clayton has several names that make up his legal name. When he was born he was the only grandchild, and therefore the only heir to the two family fortunes. Neville and I thought it would be a good gesture if he was given all the family names.' Porter explained.  
  
Harm looked surprisingly at Clay. 'How many do you have?'  
  
'Four.' Clay stated flatly. This was only getting worse.  
  
'You should use them if they are your legal names.' Harm stated in his best attorney voice.  
  
'Don't take her side, Counselor.' Clay warned him.  
  
Porter continued, 'Please Clayton. It would mean so much to me. The only other time I made you use all your names I thought of this day as the only other time you would probably use them. They are perfectly good names, you should not be embarrassed to use them.'  
  
'The only other time I used them, I had no say in the matter. Today I do.' Chided Clay.  
  
Harm asked 'Mrs. Webb, when was the other time?'  
  
'When he was christened of course, and given the names in the first place.'  
  
Clay tried another track, 'Mother, Amy doesn't know about the names. I don't want to spring them on her at the last minute. It wouldn't be fair.'  
  
Porter saw that one coming. 'I'll go and tell her you are using them, and she can practice.'  
  
Clay knew it was futile 'Mother....'  
  
Harm was beginning to enjoy this. 'She's going to need to practice them? What are they?'  
  
Porter was all too happy to explain. 'Clayton is my maiden name. It is a family tradition to use the mother's maiden name as a first name if it is not too long or awkward as a first name. Harris will be a lovely name, if you wanted to use it.' Porter suggested. Clay would leave that discussion for another day.  
  
'Yeah, unlike RABB.' Clay interjected.  
  
Porter ignored the comment. 'Then he is Neville after his father, then George after Neville's father, and Horace for my father.'  
  
Harm snickered, 'Horace?'  
  
'Its got "Harmon" beat.' Clay said.  
  
'Please Clayton, for me.' Porter said, getting back to the subject at hand.  
  
Clay had to give in, it was the only way. 'All right Mother, only if you tell Amy now to prepare her.'  
  
'I will.' Porter promised. 'Oh, I have something for each of you too.' Now that she had won that one, she could move on to why she had really entered the room. She opened her small bag, and pulled out two jewel boxes. She hands one to Clay, saying, 'Clayton, this ring was your father's. I gave it to him as a wedding gift. He did not want a wedding ring, but I wanted to give him something. He wore it on special occasions. I want to give it to you today, to wear for him.'  
  
Clay was over whelmed. 'Thank you, Mother. I wish he were here today.' He said looking at the ring.  
  
'He is darling.' Porter said with smile, and touched her son's cheek. Then she turned to face Harm. 'And Commander. This is for you.' She opens the other box, and pulls out a service ribbon and metal. She reaches up and pins it on Harm's uniform. 'I would like you to wear this in honor of Neville today, and return it to me later.'  
  
Harm was honored. 'It would be my pleasure ma'am. What is it?'  
  
Porter looks at the metal on the uniform, and decides it looks good there. 'His service ribbon from the Agency for his work in Viet Nam.' She looks directly at him looking for his reaction.  
  
'Thank you, Mrs. Webb.' He doesn't know what else to say, and couldn't say anything past the lump in his throat anyway.  
  
'I'm sure Neville wouldn't mind you wearing it.' She says quietly. 'You both look wonderful. I will go and talk to Amy, tell her the change. Oh, and I better inform Rev. Simons too. Just a few more minutes gentlemen.' She says pointedly, and leaves the room.  
  
Harm starts looking around the room, and then at Clay. Something Porter said has him curious. '"Family fortunes?" I guess I never really thought about it. Just how much are you worth Clay?'  
  
Clay looks at him sideways as he starts tying his bow tie. 'That's a hellva question to ask someone on his wedding day.'  
  
'Sorry, just curious.' Harm said quietly. 'A lot?'  
  
Clay looked at him again. 'Let's just say a lot and leave it at that, ok?'  
  
'A lot, a lot?'  
  
'Rabb!'  
  
'Why so touchy about this?' was it wedding jitters? He was just trying to have some fun with Clay.  
  
Clay turned and faced Harm, exasperation and anger in his eyes. Harm had definitely hit a nerve. 'Because. I told Amy 2 weeks ago, just "how much I was worth" and she insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement. Said she didn't want anyone to think she was marring me for my money.'  
  
'She asked for a Pre-nup!' Harm exclaimed. It must be a lot.  
  
'I hate the idea of it. It's like we are ready to throw in the towel before we get started.' Clay said. 'I am going down there in a few minutes, and pledging to love and honor her for the rest of my life, and I mean it. And so does she. That should be all we need.' He turned to the mirror again, and started fumbling with his tie. He was so angry now though, he could not get it tied right.  
  
Harm pushed his hands away, and started tying it himself for Clay. 'You two are going to have a wonderful life together. Forget about the pre-nup. Put it in a drawer somewhere and forget about it. There.' Harm said, backing away, looking at Clay. 'You look great. Relax and enjoy the day. Be happy. It's what you want right?'  
  
Clay checked himself in the mirror, grabbed his suit coat and slipped it on. 'It is want I want.' Looking up at Harm, 'Thanks Harm. For being here,...for everything.'  
  
'You're welcome, Horace.' He said laughing.  
  
'Don't.' Clay warned him as they stepped out of the room. 'Don't start...Harmon.'  
  
Clay and Harm make their way down stairs. They were waiting in the living room, at the patio doors for the music to start. That is their cue to begin the ceremony. As Clay looks out over the group of people gathered, and his mother's beautiful garden, his mind wandered, and he finds himself thinking of his bachelor party from two weeks ago. Lt. Robert's advice came to him, and Clay again felt how true the words were. He was a little surprised he remembered as much as he did of that night. There was a lot of liquor flowing, and they were all worse for wear.  
  
'So, Bud.' Harm began, slapping Bud on the back, a little too hard. 'Being you are the one here who has enjoyed wedded bliss the longest... What advice do you have for our doomed friend here? I mean the happy groom? Doomed groom?' he paused, then decided on 'For Webb.' Harm asked with little comprehension.  
  
Clay agreed whole heartedly for advice, slapping the table top. 'Yes, advice, I'm going to need all I can get.'  
  
Of all of them, Bud seemed the most stable at this point of the evening, which was not saying much. 'Well, sir.' He paused a moment thinking. 'Sir, you are getting married in a beautiful rose garden. Right?'  
  
'Well, there are some roses, but there are a lot of gladiolas too. Mother loves gladiolas. She's been out there everyday coaxing them to bloom for the wedding, and if they don't come through, there will be hell to pay.' Clay answered a little slurred.  
  
Bud nods at this, not really understanding what Mr. Webb is talking about, but continues with his advice. 'Anyway, sir.. a garden. I would have to say that sometimes, though a marriage starts in a garden, and there are times when the marriage stays in a garden, there are times too, in a marriage, where it is in the pits.' Bud felt sorry to have to break this truth to the groom, but he had to know.  
  
The Admiral piped in on this idea, to no one in particular, 'Mine was in the pits a lot.'  
  
Bud tried to continue after this interruption. 'Where was I?'  
  
Harm helped him out. 'In the pits.'  
  
'Oh yeah,' Now Bud remembered. 'And when a marriage is in the pits, you have to remember to do one thing.' And he held up one index finger to make his point.  
  
They all sat waiting for the one thing. Clay finally asked, 'And that is?'  
  
'What?' Bud asked.  
  
'What do I have to remember when I..., we..., the marriage is in the pits Bud?'  
  
'Oh. Do you love her Mr. Webb?' Bud asked.  
  
'Yes. I'm marring her aren't I?' came the emphatic answer.  
  
'Well, you just remember that.' Bud stated, proud he could give Mr. Webb such a pearl of advice on marriage.  
  
Clay however missed it. 'What?'  
  
'That you love her. Just love her Sir.' Bud explained.  
  
The Admiral asked, 'Isn't there a song like that?' and he struck out in a lovely, however off key baritone voice singing, 'Simply lover her, merely love her, love her...  
  
All the men around the table joined in....'Love her'.  
  
They all sat in silence for a moment, thinking of the women they loved in their lives.  
  
Harm slapped Bud on his back with a choked, 'That's beautiful Bud.'  
  
It was beautiful, and the scene before him now was beautiful, and everything was going to be all right. Clay was brought out of his memories by a shy voice from below.  
  
'Uncle Clay.' Clay looked down at his niece, Molly. She was a picture, in rose pink satin, white sash, and a wreath of baby's breath and pink roses in her hair. She was standing in front of him and Harm, looking shyly up at Harm. Clay crouched down to be face to face with the little girl. 'What is it Molly?' he asked.  
  
'Who's that?' she asked pointing up at Harm, with a small white gloved finger.  
  
Clay glanced all the way up to Harm's smiling face, then looked back down at Molly. 'That is the best man, my friend Harm.'  
  
'He is the Best Man.' Molly said dreamily. 'Why is he dressed like that?' she asked.  
  
'He is in a uniform.' Clay stated. 'He is a Naval Officer.'  
  
'Wow.' Molly said, taking in the dress whites from the tips of Harm's shoes to his cover. Then she looked at Clay, and frowned. 'Uncle Clay, why don't you have a uniform?'  
  
Clay stood up. He wasn't sure he was liking this reaction from his niece. Had he lost his #1 status with her all ready? 'Well, I don't have a uniform. I'm wearing my tuxedo. Don't you think I look nice, too?' he asked.  
  
Molly looked him up and down too, seriously considering the question. 'I guess so.' She said carefully.  
  
Harm had no idea he was going to have this much fun today. First Clayton's names, and now this. Poor guy, he thought, but only for a moment.  
  
'Molly, shouldn't you be getting ready to walk in front of your Aunt about now?' Clay gently reminded her.  
  
'Oh yeah.' Uniforms and handsome princes were all forgotten when she realized it was time for her to do her important job for Auntie Amy. She ran along the chairs, and disappeared around the corner of seated guests.  
  
Clay looked at a smiling Harm, standing next to him. 'Dress whites, and gold wings.' Harm said with a wink. 'Gets them every time, no matter how old they are.' He gloated.  
  
Clay just rolled his eyes. At this point the music started, and that was his cue to go and meet his mother.  
  
Clay escorted Porter down the center aisle, and seated her in the front row. Then he stepped to the bower, and Harm joined him there.  
  
Next came the children. Ben came first, carrying the white pillow with the toy rings on it, as a symbol. He looked from side to side at the people who were smiling at him, but kept his head straight. When he saw his mother at the end of the isle, he broke out in a run for the last couple of rows, right into his mother's arms. The people in the seats gave a quiet chuckle, and then Molly came down the isle.  
  
If everyone thought Ben had been cute, Molly charmed them, and a collective sigh moved around the crowd. She looked like a little angel, dropping rose petals in the isle, as she slowly walked to her father. She smiled, and looked up at everyone, and did a beautiful job. She went and sat on her father's lap in the front row, and gave Clay and Harm a big smile, which Clay returned.  
  
Next came Sarah, also in rose pink, looking lovely. She only had her eyes on Harm, and the love shown from her face. Clay was very happy for both of them.  
  
Then the music got a little louder, and everyone stood up. Amy and her father entered the garden. Amy looked everything over with a very careful eye. Everything was perfect, down to the last detail. She was so happy, her cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but she couldn't stop it. She was a little nervous too, not about the ceremony, or any wedding detail. Just what lay ahead for her and Clay. Every Bride felt that way, she was sure. Every thing was going to be fine.  
  
They arrived at the end of the aisle, and her father kissed her cheek, and told her he loved her. He shook Clay's hand then placed his daughter's hand in Clay's. Amy smiled as she looked at Clay. He looked so handsome, and little nervous too. He hid it well, but she could tell he was nervous. His hands were ice cold. In all the time she had known him, Clay always had such warm hands, no matter the weather, or where he was. But at the alter, facing a minister, about to say I Do, his hands were like ice.  
  
Amy smiled up at him, and whispered, 'Its all right.' Just so he could hear. And he smiled, and seemed to relax.  
  
The ceremony went quickly. Clayton looked back and forth between Amy, and the Minister, never once letting go of Amy's hand. They said their vows, with all of Clayton's names, Amy handled them very well.  
  
Suddenly the minister was saying the final blessing, and introducing them as Mr. and Mrs. Clayton and Amelia Webb. The guests all applauded as Clay and Amy kissed, then walked back down the isle into the house to begin the reception. It was a wonderful day, and Clay lost his sense of waiting. Nothing bad was going to happen. He and Amy were finally together. It was like the wedding song from West Side Story that had been sung before the ceremony.  
  
'Day after day, one life,  
Now it begins, now we start.  
One hand, One heart,  
Only death can part us now.'  
  
Residence of Mr. and Mrs. Clayton Webb Alexandria, VA 0730 hours local time  
  
Oh, she could get used to this. A warm strong man, lying in bed beside her each morning. She loved how he would roll over in his sleep, and reach for her. He would wrap his arm around her middle, and slide up behind her, holding her tight, then settle back to sleep. Yes, she could definitely get used to this every morning. Which was a good thing, she thought, since she was going to spend the greater part of the rest of her life, waking up this way.  
  
The sun was streaming in the window above them, and she could hear the birds singing on the other side. It was going to be another beautiful day, perfect for their drive up to the resort for their honeymoon. But there was time yet. They didn't have to get up now, and she drifted back to sleep.  
  
After a few minutes, she turned in his arms and faced him, still asleep. Clay opened his eyes and watched her. She is so beautiful. His wife. He liked the sound of that. How did I get so lucky? He asked himself. He looked forward to spending the mornings watching her wake up, being able to roll over and hold her any time he wanted to. He knew they would have to spend time apart. And he will never take for granted the mornings he can spend like this, in bed with her beside him.  
  
While he was looking at her, she opened her eyes, and looked at him, and smiled. 'Morning' she said, leaning in for his kiss. 'Morning, Beautiful'  
  
Clay was again appreciating the advantages of married life, when the door bell sounded. Inclined to ignore it, he kept kissing his wife. But it rang again, a little longer and a little more insistently. 'Who could that be at this hour?' Amy asked a little annoyed.  
  
'I guess I better go find out. It is probably Rabb playing some stupid joke on the newlyweds.' Clay supposed.  
  
'If it is, he better have brought some breakfast.' Amy reluctantly released her husband from her embrace, and watched him roll out of bed and grab some pants. As he headed for the bedroom door, he picked up his robe, and slipped it on too, as he glanced back at his wife. 'Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back.' Then he left closing the door behind him. Amy glanced at the clock on the bedside table, and thought again of who would be at their door at this hour?  
  
Clay walked to the front door, and the door bell rang once again. 'I'm coming, I'm coming. This better be good.' He said, as he opened the door, and stopped in surprise.  
  
Amy rolled over again in bed, and heard muffled voices coming from the living room through the bedroom door. She looked again at the bedside clock, and saw that 15 minutes had gone by. Who was out there, talking to Clay? I hope nothing is wrong, she thought. She was just sitting up in bed, and slipping on her robe, when Clay came back into the bedroom. He had a very sad look about him, and Amy was immediately concerned. 'What's happened?' she asked.  
  
Clay glanced at her, then stepped over to the closet, and pulled out some clothes, and started to get dressed. 'I have to go.' He said simply.  
  
'Go? To the Office?' Amy asked. 'Will you be back in time to leave for Vermont? I would like to try and get up there before dark.' She said, referring to their drive up to the resort.  
  
'No, I won't be home in time to leave for Vermont.' He answered, as he pulled more clothes out of drawers from his dresser.  
  
A small ice cube of fear began to form in Amy's stomach. Clay was moving around the room gathering things, and setting them on the bed. He did not look at her or offer any explanation for what he was doing. Still trying to keep her hopes up, against the obvious, she suggested, 'We could drive up tomorrow, I guess.'  
  
Now Clay looked at her. His wall had gone up, the one that he used to separate himself to do his job. Amy had not seen it in a very long time, but she recognized it just the same. 'Clay tell me what is going on.'  
  
'I have to go to work Amy. Something has happened, and I have to be there.'  
  
The ice cube was an iceberg now, and it chilled her to the bone. 'Clay, where are you going?' she demanded.  
  
'I can't tell you, it's classified.' He actually looked her in the eyes when he said this, knowing full well it was not going to be the end of the discussion. The shoe he had been waiting for days to drop, had just fallen, right in the middle of his honeymoon. But there was nothing else he could do.  
  
'Don't give me the Agency double talk. Where are you going Clay?' Amy was standing now. He wasn't walking out the door until she got some answers.  
  
'Amy...' he really shouldn't tell her, but he didn't have the heart to just walk out the door on her either. That was not a good sign for a field agent. He may be getting too soft. 'I'm flying to Iraq. Hassid has just been picked up. We have been watching what we believed to be one of their hideouts. We were able to grab Hessid, but Kharrat slipped past us. I have to go there ASAP and oversee the interrogation and the continuing search for Kharrat. I'm sorry.'  
  
Amy stood frozen where she was. The last thing she wanted to ever hear again were those two names. Those men had almost killed her, and now they were taking away her husband. 'No you're not sorry.' Amy said accusingly. 'Clay, don't go. Can't someone else handle this? Even for a couple of days? You are supposed to be on your honeymoon!'  
  
'No, no one else can handle this. This has been my case for over a year. I know more about their operation than anyone. Even you.' As soon as he said the last two words, he regretted them. He did know more, but he didn't like reminding Amy of the time she had spent with these men. 'You knew what you were getting when you married me. I would have to leave at a moments notice.' He stopped looking at her, and pulled out a duffel bag, and started putting his things inside.  
  
'Oh, I sure did know what I was getting into. I just didn't think I would have start within 24 hours of saying my vows!' Amy couldn't believe he was just packing up and leaving. She knew he should not have told her where and why he was going, and as far as she was concerned it didn't help to know. But he was leaving. He was zipping the bag, and slipping on his shoes, and all she could do was watch.  
  
'When will you be back?' she asked hopefully.  
  
'I don't know' he answered. He thought it would be a long time, but he didn't have the courage to tell her right now. 'I'll be home when the job is finished. We are so close now Amy. This is our best chance to capture them. I have to see it through to the end.' He had to help her to understand.  
  
Amy was hurt, and angry, and scared, and all she could do was lash out at him. 'I could get an annulment, you know. Divorce you on grounds of abandonment.'  
  
'Don't make this a choice between you and my job, Amy. There is no choice!' he shouted, angry at himself for having to leave her, and he finally lost his temper. It tore him apart to leave her like this. But he had to go. He looked back at her. For a moment, she could see the hurt in his eyes at her threat. But then the wall came back into place. 'You do what you have to do Amy to take care of yourself.' He said quietly. 'Maybe we both made a mistake thinking I could live a normal life.' Burying his emotions, something he unfortunately was good at, he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.  
  
The Agents that had been at the door so early in the morning to tell him what was happening in Iraq, were still waiting for him, outside ready to take him to the airport. They didn't say anything to him as he stepped out the door. One came forward to take his bag and put it in the trunk of the car. The other turned and moved toward the car, opening the back door for him to get inside. With his head down, Clay began mentally saying good bye to his home, and the life he had hoped to start here with Amy. He didn't know what would be here when he returned. It hurt too much to think about it right now. But he had a job to do, she had to understand that, honeymoon or not.  
  
When Clay had left the bedroom, Amy sat in silent disbelief. Then she got up and ran for the door. She didn't care that there were other men around, or that all she was wearing was her robe. She came out the door and stood on the walkway as he moved toward the car. Her tear filled voice stopped him. 'Damn it Clay!'  
  
He turned to look at her, rumpled and sexy, but with such a sad look on her face and in her eyes. She pushed hair off her face, and said quietly through her tears, 'A ma vie de coer entier'. You have my whole heart for my whole life. Clay made a step toward her, and she flew into his arms. He held her close, as if his life depended on keeping her there beside him. He realized it did. 'You have my whole heart, and all my love for my whole life Amy.' He whispered in her ear.  
  
'I'll be waiting for you to come back. Come back to me Clay please.' She whispered back.  
  
'I will.' And hoped he could keep that promise. He pulled away and looked at her face, memorizing it. She smiled for him, wanting him to carry her smile with him in the days ahead.  
  
He knew if he kissed her lips, he would never be able to leave. He lifted his head, and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. Then step by painful step he moved away from her toward the car. She kept smiling as he got inside, and the door was closed. The windows were dark, and she could not see him anymore. But she stood there smiling through the tears, knowing he could still see her, until the car drove out of sight.  
  
Inside the car, Clay continued to look out the window, calling to mind every detail of how his wife looked this morning, how she felt in his arms, her smile as they drove away. He would bring these images to mind in the days, and weeks ahead, and try and take comfort in them. She loved him and would be here when he got back. He didn't deserve it.  
  
The man sitting beside him in the back seat, gave him a few minutes to collect himself, then said, 'I'm sorry Clayton.'  
  
Clay looked at Marcus Stillman, his boss, and his friend. They had seen each other just hours before, at the wedding. But Marcus' apology only left him feeling hollow. Now he knew how Amy had felt at his apology earlier. He gave Marcus the answer Amy had given him. 'No you are not.'  
  
The two men just looked at each other. They were too schooled to let words between them hurt, or help. The drive to the airport was quiet.  
  
End of Chapter 8. 


	9. Into the Breach

Author: Claire Vincent  
  
Date: July 2004  
  
Author's note: Sorry this took so long. Hard to find time to type these days. This is a little shorter, since I decided to post what I had for now. Sorry about typos, time ran out on me and I did not get to beta read this chapter. Hope you enjoy it, and please review it. I'd like to know if this is being read by anyone!  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey   
  
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Classification: JAG - Story  
  
Webb/other Romance - Adventure  
  
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
Chapter 9 Webb Odyssey  
  
Into the Breach  
  
Office of the Secretary of the Navy   
  
Pentagon, Washington, DC  
  
0700 hours local time  
  
Commander Harm Rabb Jr. reported as ordered to the Sec Nav's office that Monday morning. He had no idea what his superior wanted with him this early in the morning, but whatever it was, it probably wasn't good. The efficient secretary in the outer office showed him right in to the inner office, without even announcing him. Another bad sign.   
  
'Cmdr Rabb, Sir.' She said as she opened the door for him. Harm followed her, and came to attention. 'Cmdr Rabb, reporting as ordered Sir.'   
  
'Thank you for coming in so early, Cmdr. Please, at ease, sit down.' The Sec Nav invited, as he came around his desk. He indicated the two chairs set apart, facing each other in the room, sitting down in one, he offered the other to Harm. Once they had settled themselves, the Sec Nav began. 'There has been an important terrorist captured in Iraq, and I need you to go over there, and watch over everything on the Navy's behalf.'  
  
This surprised Harm a little. He had become used to the Sec Nav sending him on cases, but going to Iraq regarding a terrorist was different. 'When do I leave Sir?' he asked. 'Today, the flight leaves Andrew's at noon.' The Sec Nav informed him.  
  
'Sir, who is this prisoner?' Harm asked.  
  
'Mohammad Hessid. He is #9 on the US most wanted list right now. He is suspected of terrorist activities in Afghanistan and Iraq over the years. We don't know too much about him, but we want to learn more.'  
  
'Sir, am I supposed to defend this man?' Harm asked, afraid of the answer he would get. He would do his job to the best of his abilities, but defending a terrorist would be one of the hardest things Harm had ever done.   
  
'No, no.' the Sec Nav assured him. 'I want someone there as my eyes and ears. He is being held in a Marine run prison there, and I want to be sure everything is done for this prisoner by the book. The new rules are very strict for how prisoners are to be treaded by US forces, and I want my representative there to be sure he is handled in accordance to the new rules. I do not want any slip ups, no improprieties, no questionable handling of this prisoner of any kind. Do I make myself clear, Cmdr?'  
  
'What if I see some "improprieties" or bending of the rules?' Harm asked carefully.  
  
'I trust you to do what is right, Cmdr. We need to bring this man to trial, but we also need to obtain information from him. He and this case, must be handled very carefully. The administration does not need any more bad press about how prisoners, or how their cases are handled in our court system, or by our armed forces. As long as this prisoner is in the custody of the US Marines, I want my representative there watching everything that is done. That is your job. Any other questions?' The Sec Nav stood, indicating the end of the meeting.  
  
Harm stood also. 'No Sir.'  
  
'Thank you Cmdr. Have a safe trip, and report directly to me as often as you can.'  
  
'Yes, Sir.' Harm said, and left the office. He didn't like telling Sarah he was leaving the country, but it couldn't be helped. He headed back to JAG to take leave of his superior there, Admiral Chegwidden, and then try and find a private place to quietly take leave of his wife.  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
10:40 local time  
  
Sara and Harriet were in the coffee room together, talking about the morning's business, and the weekend just past. They were discussing the Webb's wedding, and how beautiful it was, when they were joined by Admiral Chegwidden.  
  
'Good morning ladies.' He said jovially.  
  
'Good morning sir.' 'Morning Sir.' They both replied.  
  
'So the Cmdr is on his way to Iraq for the Sec Nav, Colonel?'  
  
'Yes, Sir, it seems so.'   
  
'I'm sure he will be fine.' The Admiral tried to reassure her.  
  
'Yes, Sir.' Sarah answered with half a smile. She was sure Harm would be all right also, but still didn't like it when he was serving out of the country.  
  
To try to lighten the mood, the Admiral changed the subject. 'Do you know if the happy couple were able to get away for the honeymoon without any trouble?'  
  
'As a matter of fact Sir,' Sarah began. 'Amy called us on Sunday night.'  
  
'She called you on her honeymoon?' The Admiral asked surprised.  
  
'The honeymoon had to be postponed, Sir. Saturday morning, agents came and picked Clay up to take him on assignment. It seems something happened that only he could attend to.' Sarah answered.  
  
Both Harriet and AJ were quiet at this news, feeling surprised and sorry for the couple.  
  
Sarah continued. 'Amy did not know how long Clay would be gone. And she had not been assigned a duty posting yet. She had wanted to wait until after the honeymoon, but now…Well, she really needs something to do.'  
  
'Huh.' The Admiral grunted. Then he turned and left the two women standing alone in the coffee room, even more surprised by this cold reaction.  
  
Abi Rhehad Prison  
  
Outside Baghdad, Iraq  
  
1418 local time  
  
Cmdr Harmon Rabb Jr. climbed out of the Marine Humvee and walked from the sunlight into the dark shade of the entrance to the U.S. Marine prison. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, he heard a voice. 'Can I help you Sir?' Harm slowly saw that the voice belonged to a Marine Gunnery Sargent, who had stopped him at a gated doorway. The sergeant was standing behind a small counter. 'I'm Cmdr Harmon Rabb, Jr. from the Sec Nav's office. I need to see the person in charge of the prisoner, Mohammed Hessid.'  
  
The Gunnery Sargent checked some paper work on his desk. 'I'm sorry Sir. I don't have your name on my list.'   
  
Harm had just arrived in Baghdad, and was in no mood to argue with a Marine. 'I have come from the Secertary of the Navy's office, and I am supposed to be given access to see and talk to this prisoner.'  
  
'I am sorry Sir. You do not have clearance to be allowed inside.'   
  
Harm's eyesight was finally adjusted to the light of the entry way, but he did not notice the shadow that was on the wall, on the other side of the gate, directly behind the Gunnery Sargent. Someone was listening to the exchange.  
  
Harm had to get inside, and could not believe he was being held up by this sergeant. 'Who is the senior officer here? Could I possibly talk with them?'  
  
'I'll have to ask you to step outside again sir, while I go and get the senior officer.' The sergeant answered him.  
  
'I give you my word as an officer I will not try and walk in while you are…' Harm began, but was cut off.  
  
'I can't do that Sir. You will have to wait outside. Those are my orders.'  
  
Finally the shadow emerged from behind the wall where he had been listening. 'It's all right, Gunnery Sargent, I will vouch for our new visitor.'   
  
Harm was surprised to see Clayton Webb standing in front of him. While Harm was glad to see his friend, the expression on Clay's face told him the feeling was not mutual.  
  
Clay moved past the desk, and greeted his friend. 'Hello Harm.'  
  
'I hadn't expected to see you here, Clay. Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon?'  
  
Clay looked past Harm, out to the street, squinting his eyes against the sunlight. 'No' he said tiredly. 'I'm here.' He looked back at Harm. 'What are you doing here?' he asked, knowing perfectly well the reason Harm was there.  
  
'I'm here on the Sec Nav's orders. He wanted a representative to over see the treatment of the prisoner Hessid.'  
  
Clay looked at Harm, 'He's being treated fine.'  
  
Harm looked closely at his friend. Clay's short answer, and his tone was the old Clay. The one who hid things from his friends. Harm noted the unshaved beard, and dark circles. Whatever Clay was doing here, he had been working very hard at it, and the strain was beginning to show. Harm felt that he was not talking to his friend, but to a hard working CIA operative, who was set to accomplish his mission, and no one was going to stop him.  
  
'May I see the prisoner?' Harm asked, half expecting to be turned down, Sec Nav's orders or not.  
  
'Why? Why is the Sec Nav so interested in Mohammed Hessid?' Clay wanted to know.  
  
'The Sec Nav wants to avoid any miss handling of the prisoner. He wants to be sure that all the new rules are being followed.' Harm explained. He knew it wasn't much of an excuse, but those were his orders.  
  
'New rules?' Clay asked sarcastically. 'Interesting how the "new rules" set up for the handling of prisoners is effecting all of us. What happened a the other prisons had nothing to do with the Company, but we have to abide by the "new rules" now.'  
  
Harm could hear the frustration clearly in Clay's voice. 'As long as Hessid is in the custody of US Marines, he wants to be sure everything is done by the book. Those were his exact words.' Offered Harm.  
  
'By the book? Come and see for yourself then.' Said Clay, and he turned and entered the prison.  
  
They walked down a dark hallway, made some turns into other dark hallways, all of them looked the same. Clay finally stopped at a large metal door with a small window near the top. 'Go ahead. Take a look at how the prisoner is being treated.' Clay offered, standing beside the door.  
  
'He's inside?' Harm asked.  
  
'Snug as a bug.' Replied Clay.  
  
Harm looked inside the window. The room was not small. There was a table, two chairs, a bed with two blankets, upon which sat the prisoner. He was dark, medium build, a little skinny looking in his beige prison coveralls. He sat quietly on the bed, staring into space. Harm didn't know if Hessid knew he was being watched. There was one light, in the high ceiling, and a tray of food was on the table. The food had not been touched, even though it was mid afternoon. The room was windowless.  
  
'Looks all right.' Harm said. 'Has he eaten anything?'   
  
'He is fed 3 squares a day, same food we get in the mess. If he doesn't eat it, it's not my problem.' Clay answered impatiently.  
  
Harm looked back at him, waiting for an answer to his question. Clay complied. 'He usually eats morning and evening, but he is still offered three meals a day.'  
  
Harm looked back inside the room. 'That light ever go off?' he asked. He had reviewed the rules on the flight over, and sleep deprivation was not allowed.   
  
'It is on 12, off 12. The switch is in a control panel down the hall. Only two marines have access, and they initial the times they turn it on and off. Want to see that too?' Clay asked sourly.  
  
Harm ignored the bait. Something was not right here, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 'Have you talked to him? Gotten anything from him?'  
  
Now it came out. The anger that Harm had seen in Clay, just below the service. 'How can I?' Clay started moving down the hall. Harm followed him. 'I can't conduct the kind of interrogation I need to because of the new rules!' Clay was almost shouting in his frustration. 'I have never in my life as an agent tortured anyone, but there are ways to trick people, make them just uncomfortable enough to scare them, but my hands are tied, and he knows it!' pointing down the hall towards Hessid's cell. 'I've got one of the Joint Chiefs wanting updates everyday to brief the President, I have the CIA Director breathing down my neck for results, and now I've got the Sec Nav's lachey looking over my shoulder to make sure everything is by the book!'  
  
Harm was surprised by this tirade, and angered by Clay's name calling. 'Just hold on a minute Clay. What's going on here? What are you not telling me?'  
  
Clay should not have gone on with his frustrations, but he couldn't stop. He tried to pull back now. 'What makes you think I'm not telling you everything?'  
  
'You always hold out on us. At least you did before, when you had us doing your work for you. Who is this guy? Why is he so important?'  
  
Clay gave up. Harm was his friend, he couldn't hide things from him anymore. 'He has suspected ties to al Qaida. He has been implicated in at least 2 car bombings at Marine checkpoints, causing the death of at least six Marines. We believe he is the second in command of a large dissident group operating in the north. The latest intell has this group growing in strength. If it is true, and they are growing in numbers and weapons, we need to stop them before we have an all out war on our hands.'  
  
Harm didn't think that was all of it. 'Anything else?'  
  
Clay looked at him straight in the eye. 'Just one more thing. Hessid is one of the men who held Amy.' Clay stopped there, let that fact sink in for Harm.   
  
'How do you know?' the lawyer in Harm wanted proof.  
  
'She recognized him from pictures I showed her while she was in the hospital. She confirmed Hessid and another man named Naveed Kharrat. Hessid held her down while Kharrat beat her. He held her arms out to her sides and held her up while his buddy whipped her. She was kept in a freezing room, half the time without any clothes.' Harm was visibly surprised to hear all this information. 'Yeah. I read that in the transcript of her debriefing. She couldn't even tell me that part. These two held her for days and didn't give her so much as a drink of water. And I have to go in and talk nice to him and try and find out their plans.'   
  
Clay finished, and started walking down the hall again. Harm stopped him saying 'I'm calling Washington and have you taken off this case.'   
  
Clay turned on his heel, and came back to face Harm. 'No you won't.'  
  
'Yes, I will. You are too close to this investigation Clay. You shouldn't be involved.'  
  
'I was involved the night on the hill when they blew up the truck! No one, including the Joint Chiefs, the Sec Nav, or even you my friend can take me off this case. This has been mine from the very beginning, and I am going to see it through to the end.' Clay turned and stalked down the hall.  
  
Harm watched him go, and did not envy Clay the task he had before him. Harm trusted Clay to follow the rules, and conduct a proper investigation, and he sincerely hoped Clay could get some usable information from Hessid, for all their sakes.  
  
JAG Headquarters  
  
Falls Church, VA  
  
0900 hours local time  
  
Major Amelia Webb stepped off the elevator in full uniform at the offices of JAG HQ. She looked around the floor, noting some familiar faces, but not seeing any of her friends. They must be out, maybe at court or something, Amy thought.  
  
She made her way down the hall to the Admiral's office, presenting herself to his yeoman. As she was just about to announce her name, Petty Officer Coates did it for her. 'Major Harris!' she said with a big smile. 'Or, no, Major Webb, right?'   
  
'Either is fine, well, it is Major Webb now, isn't it?' Amy thought aloud. This was the first time anyone had called her by her married name. She had been sort of shut up at home the past few days, unpacking her things in Clay's townhouse, no THEIR townhouse. Even if he wasn't there, it was his home.   
  
'I'm reporting as requested by the Admiral.' Amy offered.  
  
'He is waiting for you.' Coates said as she moved around her desk to knock on the Admiral's door.   
  
'Enter' came the answer from inside. 'Major Webb to see you sir.'   
  
'Come in, come in. Thank you Jennifer' The Admiral stood and directed Amy to a chair in front of his desk.  
  
Amy accepted the offered chair, and watched the Admiral go back to his chair behind the desk. She wondered for the 100th time since his call late yesterday, what this was all about.  
  
The Admiral did not leave her in suspense for long. 'Major it has come to my attention that you are without a duty station.'  
  
'That is correct sir. The Office of the Adjutant General is working on finding a place for me, Sir. I wish to stay in the Washington area of course, and it seems to take some time to find an assignment for me.'  
  
'Would you like to work here?' The Admiral asked, looking her in the eye.  
  
Amy was taken aback, and did not reply right away.  
  
'We have a case load that we can barely keep up with these days. I find myself in need of more attorneys and support staff. It would not be very exciting, I'll admit. But I think your security skills could come in handy on the investigations of cases. You know how to interview people, ask the right questions. It would keep you among friends, and keep in Washington. I understand you could probably use that right now.' While listing all of these points, he had looked at his desk, or across the room, anywhere but at her. Except at the last sentence, he looked at her face again, with understanding, and a clear offer of support.  
  
Amy was so pleased, and a little flattered, that he would take such and interest. She was having trouble speaking past the lump in her throat. It was so unexpected, and she couldn't think of anywhere else she would rather serve.  
  
The Admiral paused, watching the Major closely. She seemed to be having a hard time finding her voice, so he put a little icing on the cake, to give her a little more time to find her voice. 'We here at JAG would be honored to have you work with us, Major. You come with an outstanding record of service, to the Corps and to the country.'  
  
'I don't know what to say, Admiral.' Amy finally said. 'I can't think of any other command I would like to serve in, Admiral. Thank you.'  
  
'Now, it is not going to be very exciting. Paper work, and research.' He said. He wanted to be sure she understood what she was getting herself into. 'And I'm not always such a nice guy to work for. Just ask around, I bellow a lot. Expect a lot from my people.'  
  
'I think I can handle it Admiral. And I would welcome a little less excitement in my life right now.' She said with a sad smile.  
  
'I suppose you could.' He smiled back, understanding. 'So, it is settled. When do you want to begin?' he said, standing.  
  
'The sooner the better, Sir.'   
  
'Excellent. I will have Coates show you around, and get you settled. I will complete the paperwork today, and you will be all set. Welcome aboard, Major.'  
  
Amy turned and looked him right in the face. If it had not been against protocol, and highly embarrassing for him, she would have kissed his cheek for his kindness. She settled instead for a heartfelt, 'Thank you again Sir. I appreciate this, very much.'  
  
AJ, feeling a little uncomfortable with the sincerity in her face, and how good it made him feel to be able to help her out, fell back into old habits. 'My pleasure.' He said quietly, and then in his best Admiral ordering voice said.   
  
'Now, get to work!'  
  
'Aye, Aye Admiral' Amy said, coming to attention, and taking leave of his office.  
  
Abi Rhehad Prison  
  
Outside Baghdad, Iraq  
  
0104 local time  
  
They waited in the entry way of the prison. Looking out on the field that served as a landing pad. Clay and Harm looked at each other as the Marines baited the prisoner into talking, as young men will do. 'Better say goodbye to your country.   
  
You won't ever be coming back here' and similar things, then they would laugh. Clay thought he should put a stop to it, but couldn't summon the energy.  
  
They were waiting here until the helicopter landed in the yard. They Clay, Harm and the Marines would all move out quickly and get the prisoner on board. Harm would join him, and they would take off, ultimately going back to Washington.  
  
Harm interrupted Clay's thoughts. 'So where are we going exactly?' he asked.  
  
'Need to know, Harm.' Clay answered, kidding his friend, knowing this answer would really bother Harm.  
  
'No, really. I'm on the trip, I need to know don't I?'  
  
Clay smiled. 'No, you don't. Not until you land. Just relax. You will be back in home in a couple of days.'  
  
'I'll be glad for that. What about you?' Harm asked Clay.  
  
Clay was quiet a moment as he looked out again at the field, watching for signs of the chopper. 'I'll be home a few days after you.'  
  
'That will be nice, eh?' Harm said with a sly smile, thinking of the welcome in store for Clay from his Bride. 'Amy will be glad to have you back, don't you think?'  
  
Clay looked at him with his own sly smile. Yes, he thought. I will be glad to be back home. 'There are things to finish here, but I will be glad to go home too.'  
  
At this point, they could faintly hear the chopper approaching. 'Get ready.' Clay told everyone.  
  
The helicopter was descending, hovering over the ground slowly making the landing. They were to land quickly, and Harm, Clay and the Marines would escort Hessid to the chopper, put him on board, Harm would board also, then the chopper would take off again. Very simple, and very quickly.  
  
Clay gave the signal to move out, and the small group left the shelter of the building, and made their way onto the field.  
  
At that moment, a crash was heard to their right. A truck had driven through the fence and stopped between the group and the building they had just exited, where more Marines were inside. Men exited the truck and began shooting. Once they had all left, the truck blew up in a large, loud fire ball, effectively cutting off the group of Marines on their way to the chopper and any reinforcements that might try and help.   
  
The Marines with the prisoner, Clay and Harm, all hit the dirt as soon as they heard the explosion. In that split second, the prisoner broke away, and ran off into the night, toward the chopper.   
  
Everyone was shooting and yelling, but nothing could be heard over the flaming of the truck, and the noise from the chopper rudders. Marines on board were shooting at the terrorists too, but they were being attacked in greater numbers, and didn't have a chance.  
  
The terrorists moved to the chopper, pulled out the dead and wounded Marines on board, and took the chopper themselves, Hessid having joined them inside. Their own pilot took the controls, and the chopper took off, carrying only one of the passengers it had come for.  
  
As the chopper took off, more yelling was heard, and more shots fired, but to no avail. The terrorists had gotten way, with Hessid. Harm watched in disbelief as it disappeared over the fence and out of sight in the darkness. The truck was still burning and there were wounded and dead men all around him. As Harm was slowly getting up, he saw Clay rise, and race to the door of the building, as more people came rushing outside to help the wounded.  
  
Sometime later, after he had helped with the chaos outside, Harm went looking for Clay. He had some explaining to do. Harm finally found Clay packing a small bag near his bunk in the barracks.  
  
'Where have you been?' he demanded.  
  
'I went to the Communications Center to find out how the track that chopper.' came the curt answer.  
  
Harm was angry that Clay had just left without helping the men down there.'Marines died down there tonight, we could have used some help.'  
  
'If I don't find where that chopper went, and soon, more Marines are going to die.' Clay yelled back.  
  
Harm thought about the hard truth of this, and let it pass. Instead he asked calmly. 'What are you going to do?'  
  
'Go after them.' Clay said simply, as if it was just that easy.  
  
'Alone?'  
  
'There are other agents and contacts out there to help. I won't be alone.'  
  
Without really hearing his answer Harm said, 'I have my orders, Clay, I can't come with you.'  
  
'I'm not asking you to. I have my orders too and they are very straight forward. Find these people and stop them.' Clay had finished packing his bag, and turned to leave.  
  
Harm looked at his friend, at the determination on his face, and wondered if this would be the last time he saw him. Putting that thought aside, he said 'Can I bring home a message for Amy?'  
  
Clay thought for a moment. What could he say, or Harm say to make this easier for her? 'She knows what I am doing. She shouldn't but she does. She understands.'  
  
'Yes, but anything else?' Harm prompted.  
  
Clay thought a minute of all the things he would like to say to her. How much he loved and missed her; more than he thought possible. He felt like a part of him was missing, cut off some how. But he couldn't find the words, and he didn't want to bare his heart to Harm this way. 'Tell her I'm fine. I miss her, and love her very much. But she knows all that.'  
  
Clay moved to leave, and Harm said. 'Be careful.'  
  
This reminded Clay of one more thing. 'I will. Can I ask you to do one favor for me?' he asked.  
  
'Name it.'  
  
Clay swallowed. 'If something happens to me…'  
  
Harm interrupted him. 'Nothing is going to happen.' He said forcefully, as if issuing an order.  
  
Clay continued as if he had not said anything. 'Promise me you will look after Amy for me.'  
  
'I promise.' Harm said reluctantly, 'But you better not make me keep that promise, Clay.'  
  
Clay nods his thanks to his friend, since he hates goodbyes, he turned to leave the barracks without another word.  
  
Mrs. Porter Webb's Residence  
  
Great Falls, VA  
  
1843 hours local time  
  
Amy stood up from the dinner table, opened the dining room doors, and led the small party of her friends into the living room. Everyone was talking in small groups as they moved into the spacious room, and began sitting down in small groups, to continue their conversations.  
  
When Porter had first suggested this little 'intimate gathering' as she called it, to celebrate Amy's birthday, Amy had declined. She did not feel like celebrating anything these days. She just wanted to plow through each day, in sort of a numb state. Get up, go to work a JAG, put on a brave face there. Work hard, and loose herself in the details of filing papers, researching information for the attorneys on the computers, and generally keep herself busy, so she could not think. Then she would grab some kind of food to sustain her on her way home. Something quick, nourishing, and tasteless, then go home and sew, or watch TV, more mind numbing work, until she fell into bed, where she got some sleep, to wake up the next day and start all over.   
  
It had been almost 2 months now since the wedding. Two months since she had last seen Clay, get in a car, and drive away from her. She thought about that a lot, and it still made her feel completely empty inside. There had been no word from Clay in all that time. No phone call, no email, no note. Only what Harm had been able to tell her since he had seen Clay at the prison that first week. She wasn't even sure if he was still…he was alive, she insisted. She should always believe that, and not think of any other possibility. Porter had been a great comfort to her. Calling to check on Amy every few days, sharing a meal together a couple times a week. Porter missed Clay too, and was worried about him, but she assured Amy that this silence was not unusual for agents when they were in the field. Amy was not sure if Porter told her this for Amy's comfort, or her own, but whatever the reason, it worked. Sometimes.  
  
And working at JAG had been wonderful. The Admiral was right, it was not exciting work, but it helped to be with good friends everyday, friends who cared. Without being too obvious, Harm and Sarah, Bud and Harriet, even the Admiral were all watching out for her. They included her in conversations, and lunch plans, or happy hour at the near by watering hole after hours. Amy had never been much for hanging out in bars, but to just be included with activities in these peoples lives had helped make the time a little less lonely for her.  
  
And now, here they all were, celebrating her birthday. Her friends at JAG, a few other acquaintances, and a couple friends of Porter's who Amy had met. They had finished dinner, and would have cake and coffee in the living room. Amy was enjoying the evening, everyone had been so kind and attentive. The invitation had clearly stated no gifts, at her insistence, but a few people brought little thoughtful gifts anyway. 'It wasn't a birthday without birthday presents' Sarah had told her as she handed her a smartly wrapped present. Amy appreciated the thought, and the attention, and true friendship everyone had shown her, but the evening seemed a little incomplete without Clay there. She missed him so much, loved him, and prayed for his welfare. He just had to come home soon, he just had to.  
  
Porter was talking to the Admiral, and Amy was watching from across the room, wondering again how she did it. How she could stand this…waiting. The doorbell rang, and Amy watched as Porter looked as surprised as she was. There was not supposed to be any late arriving guests. From the corner of her eye, Amy watched Harrison move to the front hall, and answer the door. There were some men's voices, but Amy could not make out what they were saying. Jennifer Coates had come over and started talking to Amy about how beautiful the house was, and Amy tried to listen to her, as she saw Harrison enter the room, followed by two young men in dark suits.   
  
Sarah and Harm were sitting together on the couch near the empty fireplace, when they heard the doorbell. They shared a glance, and Harm leaned over to his wife and said 'Wouldn't it be just like Clay to make a surprise entrance about now?' Sarah smiled. 'Wouldn't that be nice?' she said back to him. She watched as Harrison entered the living room followed by two young men in dark suits. Sarah could hear the slight intake of breath from her husband, as he saw them too, and wondered what has startled him. Harrison walked slowly up to Amy, and whispered discreetly in her ear. Sarah watched as Amy became very pale, and her eyes grew wide in fear. She looked at Harrison without saying a word, then looked up, and made eye contact with Porter.   
  
Porter exchanged looks with Amy in a split second, and she too, grew very pale. Amy looked at the floor, and glanced about the room, not knowing what to do, then she took a deep breath, and whispered something back to Harrison, who then left the room, and beckoned the two men to follow him.  
  
Sarah watched as Amy seemed unsure of what to do with her hands. She clasped, and unclasped them a few times. Then she glanced up at Sarah, who was looking intently at her, then looked away again, unable to meet her friend's eyes. Sarah became nervous, wondering what Harrison had whispered to Amy to make her react this way. Sarah looked again at Porter, who was still staring at Amy, but Amy would not look up at her mother-in-law. Sarah stood up to go to her friend, but at that moment, Amy excused herself from Jennifer, and left the room.  
  
Sarah went over to Jennifer to find out if she overheard any of the exchange between Amy and Harrison, but Jennifer said no, she hadn't. 'Amy just said excuse me, and left, ma'am.' Sarah felt something was wrong, but did not know what exactly. She hoped it was not bad news. And then it dawned on her. If it was news about Clay, CIA agents delivered the news to the family the same way the military did; with a personal call from an official from the service. Oh, no, Sarah thought, and her heart sank.  
  
Harrison's words kept echoing in Amy's head, 'There are two agents here who wish to speak to you Ma'am.' He had said the sentence very quietly, but she could hear the sympathy there. He knew what this meant. A cold hand seemed to have griped her shoulder at that moment, and froze the blood in her veins. 'Two agents… wish to speak to you…' Somehow she had found her voice, and told Harrison to show them into the study. She was outside the door to that room now. She couldn't breath. She would have to move her hand, grip the door knob, and open the door, and face what was on the other side. She had to face it. A little voice deep inside said, if you don't open the door, you can go on living the way you have been. Whatever news these men had would not be true if you don't talk to them now. It wasn't logical, but it seemed to make sense right now. Keep the door closed on the truth, and it would never come out. Her heart was pounding in her head. 'Get a grip Marine.' She said aloud. 'Nothing can change the truth.' Taking a breath, and putting a shaking hand on the door knob, she entered the study.   
  
Back in the living room, when Amy had left, Porter excused herself from the Admiral and left. A quiet had fallen on the guests, and no one seemed to know what was going on. In a few moments, Harrison came back in and talked quietly to the Admiral. Then he left the room, and everyone waited for the Admiral to tell them what was going on. 'Harrison has just informed me that two CIA Agents have come to talk privately with Amy and then they will talk with Mrs. Porter Webb. We don't know what it is they wish to talk to the ladies about, but it might be best if we all quietly leave now, and leave them to their privacy.' At this everyone stood, and began collecting purses and coats to head home.   
  
Sarah and Harm stayed behind, coming up to the Admiral. 'We were thinking we would stay, Sir. Amy may need us.' Harm said quietly. 'You are probably right. I think I will stay too. Maybe I can help making some calls or something.' The Admiral said. He didn't know what help he could offer for sure, but he wanted to stay and offer whatever help was needed. The three of them sat back down in the lovely living room, to wait.  
  
In the study, Amy entered the room, closed the door very methodically, and turned to face the two agents, who were standing on the other side of the room. The first thing that struck Amy was that they looked so young. She thought they could barely be out of college. She would have smiled at this thought, and at the way the two men fidgeted, if she wasn't so scared.   
  
The two agents looked at her, then glanced at each other nervously, then looked back at Amy. They both seemed unsure of how to begin. Amy wasn't sure herself how to start the conversation, one she hoped she would never have to face, and she was not aware of how it begins. Finally one of the agents cleared his throat and began with introductions. 'Ah, Mrs. Webb, my name is Agent Murphy, Danny…ah Daniel Murphy, and this is Agent Hugh Byrnes.' The other agent nodded in Amy direction, but did not say anything. Agent Murphy continued. 'Ah…Assistant Director Stillman sent us over here to talk to you.' Stillman didn't have the guts to come here and face me himself? Amy thought to herself. It made her angry, which was a better than feeling scared.  
  
Amy was thinking this, and missed the next sentence Agent Murphy said. '…a message from your husband, Agent Webb.' He was saying.   
  
Amy interrupted him, 'Wait, what did you say? A message from my husband?'  
  
'Yes, ma'am.' Agent Byrnes finally found his voice. 'A few hours ago, Agent Webb left a message on a secure line about his plan and what he was doing, and where he was…'   
  
Agent Murphy cut off his partner before he went too far, 'But all that is classified, Ma'am.'   
  
'Oh, yes, classified' echoed Byrnes. The both looked very serious saying this. Seeing this act almost made Amy smile. 'But at the end of the message, against the rules I might add,' this comment earned him a sideways glance from Murphy, 'Agent Webb left a personal message for you.'  
  
Amy couldn't believe it. Clay wasn't missing, or dead. He had just left a message. Relief poured through Amy like warm water. She closed her eyes, and felt the room sway. She opened her eyes again, but that didn't help, the room did sway, just a little bit. She reached out behind her for a chair, moved two steps back, and sank into it. 'I have to sit down.' She told the agents. 'You two just took 5 years off my life. Give me a minute.'   
  
The two young agents moved closer to her, nervously. This was not the reaction they had been expecting. Mrs. Webb looked white as a sheet, and was taking deep breaths. Then Murphy realized what she had been thinking. 'Oh!' he exclaimed. 'Oh, Mrs. Webb, you thought…you thought we had come to tell you…' he looked over at his partner, who was still in the dark. Murphy brought him up to speed. 'She thought we had come here to tell her…"bad" news.' Now Byrnes said, 'Oh, no Mrs. Webb, nothing like that. Agent Webb is fine. Or was at least a couple hours ago.' Murphy gave him a dirty look at that, as if to say 'That's no help.'  
  
Murphy began fumbling in his pocket, and pulled out a small tape recorder, the kind that is usually used for dictation. He set it on the corner of the desk. 'Here, Ma'am. The message to you is on this tape. Director Stillman just wanted us to bring it to you. This copy is yours to keep. We are sorry for any confusion, Ma'am.' Murphy thought that Mrs. Webb was looking a little better now. 'We'll just go and leave you alone to listen to it.' He nudged Byrnes, and the moved toward the door.   
  
Amy stopped them one last time. 'Gentlemen. Today is my birthday. We were just about to have some cake. Why not stay and have a piece.'  
  
'Thank you Mrs. Webb.' Byrnes answered surprised. 'We would love to.' And they started for the door.  
  
'Ah, please tell Mr. Harrison, who no doubt is out in the hallway waiting, that Agent Webb is fine, and that you were delivering a message from him. Harrison will see that the news is passed around to the rest of the guests.'  
  
'Yes, Ma'am' they answered, and left the study.  
  
The room had stopped spinning, and Amy stood up, and moved to the tape recorder. She picked it up, and holding it, pushed the play button.  
  
Clay's tired voice immediately came over the speaker. 'That's about it. One more thing. I don't care if is against the rules, please get a message to my wife. My wife Amy.' There was a pause here, and she heard him take a breath. His voice changed from business to personal in that breath. 'Amy. It's just good to say her name out loud. Darling I love you. I'm sorry about all this. I'm sorry it has been so long. I miss you. Be strong Amy. You are my lifeline. Knowing you are there, and love me,…It keeps me going. I think about you every day, and every night. Hang on. I will be home, and we will have our life together. I promise. I…I have to finish things here. I don't know how much longer…but know I love you, need you. Give Mother my love too. Stay close to her. I'll be home as soon as I can.' He stopped here. It sounded as if he wanted to say more, but didn't know what to say. Then his voice went back to his 'business' tone. 'That's all. Webb out.' And she heard the little click of the line being broken.  
  
Amy hadn't realized she was crying until that moment, when she felt a tear fall on her hand, that was still holding the recorder. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and she felt alive. More alive than she had in 2 months. If felt as if, through his voice, his hand came out and touched her, held her. She let out a little sob, both happy and sad, and rewound the tape to listen to it again.  
  
After 3 times through, she tried her eyes, and put the recorder in the desk drawer, but kept the tape itself in her pocket. Then she left the room, to rejoin her birthday party, with a very big smile on her face.  
  
End Chapter 9 


	10. Far From Home

Chapter 10 Far From Home  
  
CIA Headquarters Langley, VA 0856 hours local time  
  
In the weeks since Amy's birthday, she had played the phone message from Clay over and over again. She had the message memorized now; all the words and inflections were in her heart, as well as her head.  
  
There had been no new messages, or information about Clay; where he was or what he was doing, or his status. Amy kept telling herself no news was good news. As long as he was alive, and reporting into Langley, he was fine, but she would never be in that loop. When the Agency knew he was dead, they would let her know. She thought this was poor comfort, but it was the truth. As long as she heard nothing, he was fine.  
  
So the call from Marcus Stillman to come and see him at his office in Langley had her worried. If it was bad news, wouldn't he or some agent come to tell her? They certainly would not make her come to CIA Headquarters to give her bad news. Still, why did he want to talk to her? Amy considered these questions again, as she walked down the hallway toward Stillman's office. When she arrived, she was shown in immediately.  
  
Marcus Stillman stood up to greet her. He shook her hand, thanked her for coming in, and seated her in a chair off to the side of the office. He sat in another chair beside her, and looked intently at her, a small smile on his face, and a very bland, unreadable expression in his eyes. Amy thought he had probably practiced that look over many years.  
  
'Thank you for coming to see me Major Webb. I hope everything is going well for you? How do you like working at JAG?' He asked, trying for a friendly conversational tone.  
  
Amy politely answered his questions, but kept her guard up. 'I like working at JAG very much. And I am fine, thank you.'  
  
'Good, good. I suppose you are wondering why I asked to talk to you. Let me first assure you that Clay is all right. We are receiving reports from him through various contacts, and they are very encouraging. I know he has been gone a long time, and it must be hard on you.' He had taken on a fatherly tone with this last sentence, and all it did was make Amy more uncomfortable. She acknowledged this with a faint smile and nod. Once these niceties were out of the way, Marcus decided to get to work.  
  
'Major, I wanted to talk to you and ask for your help with simple mission.'  
  
This surprised Amy, and in spite of her wish to keep a neutral expression, her eyebrows shot up.  
  
'A mission for the CIA? I'm sorry Mr. Stillman, but I am really not interested in working for the Agency. I am very happy in the Marine Corps and with working at JAG…' Amy tried to be polite, but wanted to empress on Stillman that she was not going to get dragged into the Agency. Stillman was not going to be put off so easily though. He interrupted Amy.  
  
'Major, I understand how you would feel about the Agency right now, and I am not recruiting you as an agent. I just need someone with your background, and language skills, and experience to help on this one assignment.' Stillman paused here, hoping Amy would hear him out. When she offered no more objections, he continued.  
  
'It is in Iraq, but it is not a dangerous placement. We need a woman, who speaks Farsi, and can blend in with the people. We would have you set up what we call a safe house.'  
  
Amy had heard that term used before in the context of the police or other security agencies, but didn't know what the CIA would use one for. 'What exactly is a safe house for the CIA?' she asked.  
  
'We have several agents working alone and under deep cover in Iraq. They are men who have a list of supporters, or contacts where they can get information from, but very few of these supporters will help our agents with food or shelter for a few days, or pass information from the agents back up the line to Langley. So, we let the supporters know that a safe house is available in the area, and when they are contacted by an agent, they will tell them where it is located, and for how long it is available.'  
  
'So it is not available for very long?' Amy asked. She had to admit, she was intrigued by the idea of offering help.  
  
'No, for your own safety, the safe house is only available for a week or so, and then we try and set up a new one elsewhere.' Stillman answered, slipping in the use of the first person to try and get Amy to agree to do it.  
  
He continued, 'You would stay in a house that has been rented in your name, the cover name we give you, and give the story that you will be meeting a male relative while staying there. It is not so unusual in Iraq, there are many people moving around these days, trying to settle in safe places away from the fighting and insurgent attacks. If you are contacted by an agent, you will be able to offer him food, shelter and time to sleep while someone else watches his back. You may have to administer first aid, give them money, papers, and most importantly, give them a chance to pass along information to be brought back here. This will be very important, since you will be a direct line of communication for them.'  
  
Amy was getting the idea of how it would all work. It seemed simple enough. But it all seemed to go a little too smoothly. Before she could form any questions, Stillman went on.  
  
'There is one other thing. You will pass along exit plans and papers for the agents. You must try and convince any agents you meet to wrap up loose ends, and use the exit plan you give them. It is getting a little too dangerous for them to be out there in such deep cover. And now that the Iraq government is operating, it would not look good for the US to still have spies operating in the new sovereign nation.'  
  
'So to clarify what you are asking of me,' Amy began. 'I would set up a safe house for any agent that might need to contact me. I would offer them shelter, food, medicine, money, and an exit plan, and convince them to use the plan at the soonest possible opportunity. Why not have them just leave with me?' she asked.  
  
'They will not be able to just disappear, and getting two people out is twice as hard, you understand. No, we would have you leave separately. As I said they will have to take care to tie up their stories, and contacts, etc. No, you will hand them plans, contacts, tickets if need be, so they can get out of the country in a few days, after they leave you.'  
  
Amy had to ask the one question that was burning on her lips. 'Is Clay one of the agents that have to leave? Will I see him?'  
  
'No'. Stillman said flatly. 'Clay is not in the sector that you will be in. I'm sorry but the chances of you seeing him are slim to none.' Stillman watched Amy's face fall, just slightly at this statement. 'But,' he said, 'you may see someone who was in contact with Clay, or who will see him soon, and you could pass a message along to him.' He didn't want to get her hopes up, but he knew that any chance for her to contact Clay may be all he needed to get her cooperation. He felt a slight twinge of conscience at using her emotions against her this way, but it was only a twinge.  
  
'I suppose you have to have an answer from me right away?' Amy asked. She knew she could not leave the office without giving him an answer, but she wanted to buy sometime to think.  
  
'Yes, right now.' Stillman answered.  
  
'What will I tell the Admiral?'  
  
'Admiral Chedwiggen is used to having his people work with the Agency at times. This would not be anything new. I will handle contacting him for you if you like.'  
  
Amy thought for a moment more. She would not see Clay, but she may be able to get a message to him, or talk to someone who had seen him recently. 'Why me? The CIA doesn't have any other brown eyed female operatives who speak Farsi?' She thought this was all too convenient, too easy somehow.  
  
'None with your…experience, shall we say? We need someone we can trust, who will keep their head. You have proven yourself there.' He said.  
  
Amy took a deep breath. 'But aren't I a liability now? Wouldn't I break under pressure this time if I was captured?' she didn't even want to think of that possibility. She wasn't sure herself what she would do when faced with the enemy again.  
  
Marcus Stillman smiled a fatherly smile. Something else Amy was sure he had practiced over the years. 'You will be quite safe. I wouldn't think of sending you if I thought you would be in danger. We just need a level head and experience here. Can you help us out, Amy? Help us, help agents like Clay, and help your country?' Even Marcus knew that was a bit thick, but there was a ring of truth to what he said, and Amy knew it too.  
  
'All right. I will help you with this one mission. But do not start including my name anywhere on your roster of available agents. I am serving my country, not the CIA.'  
  
'I understand.' He said. 'And thank you, Amy.' He stood and walked her to the door. 'My assistant will bring to the stationing office. There you will receive your formal orders, and all the information and papers you will need to travel. I will call JAG Ops and talk with the Admiral.'  
  
She said goodbye, and he closed the door behind her. She was the best person for this particular mission. And he hoped it worked. It was his last chance, and the agent's last chance.  
  
Deserted road Somewhere in Northern Iraq Mid-morning  
  
Aamal Sahed was walking toward the village he had been directed to 3 days ago. He expected to get there by noon. He had been told by the contact that a woman with a large blue market bag would be the person talk to. She would be in the market place at mid-day, and he should approach her and say that 'the fruit across the street is fresher.' It never failed to amaze him the silly things that people came up with to make contact.  
  
His empty stomach growled at the thought of fruit, or food for that matter. His stash of money and food had run out days ago. The last thing he had eaten was a couple days ago. Some bread and cheese an old woman had given him, when he had collapsed outside her hut. He had only sat down there to take advantage of the shade, and wait for the dizziness to ware off. He wasn't begging, but she had shared the bread and cheese with him anyway. It was probably all she had for herself. He had thanked her for her kindness, in what little Farsi he had learned, and she had smiled. He wasn't sure if she had appreciated the thanks, or if he had said something wrong. At that point he had not cared. It was the first bit of food he had to eat in days. He kept his eyes open for a well, or stream. He needed water too.  
  
He smiled to himself. Here he was, Clayton Neville Webb, Harvard Graduate, Special Director of Operations, Middle East, Northern Iraq, working as a CIA Operative in the field under an assumed name; one of the richest and most experienced agents he knew, walking on a deserted road, begging for food. Since going underground to try and find Kharrat and Hassid, his life had been very different. It was good for him though, he was making progress, following his prey. He had decided to follow them from afar, to try and find out what their plan was, what their target was. But this had taken time. He had lost track of the days and weeks, months now since he had been in Baghdad and Hassid had gotten away. Going to this village today had taken him off their path, but he needed the rest, and needed to get some more money, food, and other supplies. He had finally accepted the fact he needed some help.  
  
So he would take a few days, he thought. Rest, re-supply, and then set off again. He would pick up where he had left off on Kharrat's trail, and finish the job. He would pass along his plan and information he had gathered on Kharrat's group to the person at the safe house. And, he would write a letter to his wife. Let the support person hide it away and deliver it to Amy when they got back to Washington. Amy, just thinking of her put a smile on his face. He hoped with all his heart she was still waiting for him, would still be married to him when he got back. He thought of her everyday, and it hurt, but he couldn't stop. He will make it home to her, and they will have a life together. This was the hope he clung to, as he walked around this war torn country.  
  
Village in Northern Iraq Market area Mid Day  
  
Aamal/Clay made it to the market in time. It was a good sized village and there were a number of people milling around the booths the farmers had set up. He sat down on the side of one booth to watch for the woman and the blue bag. He hoped he could stay awake and make contact. He needed the rest, but he had to find her first.  
  
It did not take long. He was not able to get a good look at any of the women, since they all wore the traditional black robes, and head scarf. But all he really needed was to see one with a blue market bag, and he finally saw her, walking down the road, checking in each stall, taking her time looking over the food. He watched her buy a few items, and place them in her bag. He caught her searching the crowd from time to time, but she was not obvious about it. It could be anyone, doing the daily shopping, watching for their friends in the marketplace, or looking at what the farmers had to offer.  
  
Amy strolled around the booths, buying the food she thought she would need for the next day or so. There was no way to keep the food fresh, without electricity in the small hut she was using, but the food would keep well enough until she came here again tomorrow. She had been in place for three days now, without being approached by anyone, Iraqi or American. She would content herself that she was here and ready if anyone needed her. She would just have to wait until someone came to her. She scanned the crowd in the street, not really knowing what she was looking for, just looking.  
  
She made her way to a fruit stall, where she might be contacted. It was now or never. As she looked over the produce there, she felt someone come up close behind her, closer than necessary, and her heart quickened. She heard a voice say 'The fruit across the street is fresher' in very poorly accented Farsi, and she froze. The voice was slightly familiar some how, but it couldn't be. She took a quick breath to calm down, and turned to look at the speaker. There, standing right behind her, looking at the food stood her husband. She couldn't believe it. He looked very different, but it was Clay. His face was thinner, and tanned, with a thin beard, his eyes were red rimmed and darting around him, checking faces in the crowd. He of course had no idea it was her, since her face was covered by her head scarf. Her mouth was dry; she didn't know what to say. She didn't want to make a scene right here in the open. She decided she should just follow procedure. She nudged him to get his attention, and walked out into the street, away from the crowded booth.  
  
As planned, he followed close behind her. When they were away from any close listeners, he placed his had on her shoulder, and whispered in English. 'Where is the house?' Once he had said this, he looked at her face for the first time. Those eyes, he knew, but it couldn't be. His tired mind was playing tricks on him.  
  
Amy saw the flash of recognition, and also noted how quickly Clay dismissed it. Her heart was in her throat, her blood pounding in her head. She was surprised he couldn't hear it himself. She looked up at his face, tried to poor all her love into her eyes, since that was all he could see. 'Clay, it is me. It's Amy.'  
  
Clay's head was swimming. He shook it slightly, blinked to clear his vision, but she was still standing there in front of him, his wife. Amy. She was here. She reached out and took his hand in hers. They were her hands. Small and white. He couldn't think.  
  
Amy looked around, watching the crowd. They couldn't talk here. They had to get back to the house. 'Clay,' she looked back up at him. He looked confused, disoriented. 'The house is down at the end of this street. On the left, blue door. Go in through the back. I will follow you.'  
  
Years of training kicked in for Clay, and he ignored what was staring him in the face, to concentrate on the task at hand. They had to go somewhere they could talk safely, and maybe, in the mean time, he can clear his mind of this hallucination. 'Down the street on the left, blue door.' He repeated. 'Take your time here, and then take another route back to the house.' He ordered her. Then released her shoulder and hand, and began walking in the direction of the house. How could this be? Why would Amy be here? He was in worse shape than he thought. She couldn't be here, he told himself. It was only to be expected that being so weak from lack of food and rest for so long, he would think of, and wish for comfort from the most important person in his life. His wife. It was just a brown-eyed agent that sounded like Amy. Had to be. His befuddled mind had her saying things he wanted to hear. It would be all right though. Some sleep and food would straighten him out, and this agent would be able to get word to Amy. It would be fine.  
  
But, she was so real. And she had been the right size, and didn't his hand feel something when he placed it on her shoulder. Some jolt of recognition? He just had to make it to the house. They would meet there, and everything would be straightened out. What if it was Amy? He had to get her home, it was dangerous here. He became angry at the thought of what she might be doing here. How that may compromise him. It certainly complicated things. What if it wasn't her? All these questions rolled around in his head as he walked down the street. He had to get to the house. Then he can plan what needed to be done.  
  
Amy continued shopping, knowing she had to get enough for two people now. She took her time, but it was hard to walk slowly around the street when her heart and mind were racing. She wanted to be with Clay. When she felt that enough time had gone by, she slowly made her way down the street, and around a few extra buildings, before going to the house.  
  
She opened the door and was roughly pulled inside. The door was closed behind her and she was pushed against the wall and her head scarf was torn off. He held her there, using his body to hold her against the wall, and looking at her face. Searching it, to be sure it was her. He pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was forceful, hungry, angry. Not an "I've missed you" sort of kiss, it was more punishing.  
  
He pulled his head away from her for a moment, and looked in her eyes. Amy saw anger there, and something else she couldn't name, something reckless. They were both breathless after the kiss, like they had been running. Between gasps he said, 'I don't know whether to rip off your clothes and take you here, or bundle you up and get you on the next plane out of here.'  
  
Amy didn't know what to reply to any of this, the rough kiss, his statement, or the anger in his eyes.  
  
Clay looked at her again, and calmed his breathing. She looked so beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered, and she was right here, with him. He gently touched her cheek, and moved closer to kiss her again. This time it was gentle, and slow.  
  
When he pulled away, Amy finally found her voice. 'Hi honey. I missed you too.' She said with a smile.  
  
Unfortunately that set Clay off again. He let go of her and paced the small room. 'You think this is a game! Kharrat's men are out there, they have been following me. This is a dangerous situation!' he shouted.  
  
This set Amy off too. She was angry now. Who did he think he was talking to her that way? 'You don't have to tell me how dangerous Kharrat and his men are. I know that better than you do.'  
  
This was met by silence. They stared at each other across the room for a moment. Finally Clay asked, more calmly, 'What are you doing here?'  
  
'My job.' Amy stated.  
  
'What, looking for your husband who hasn't checked in for a while?' Clay asked sarcastically. 'I'm sorry, I was busy.'  
  
Amy didn't understand where all this anger was coming from, but she couldn't stop to think about it now. When Clay got like this, she immediately got on the defensive. 'You are my husband and I love you, but my world doesn't revolve around you Clay. I'm here for the CIA to provide a save house. You came to the market and met me, remember?'  
  
'You are working for the Company now? Who sent you?' Clay demanded.  
  
Amy knew he would not calm down until he had all his questions answered so she provided him the information. 'No, I am not working for the company now. I'm T.A.D. her under Stillman's orders.'  
  
'Marcus sent you!' Clay shouted, and then didn't wait for an answer. 'I'll kill him.' Amy got the impression this was not an idle threat. 'And you came here, accepted the job as an excuse to look for me? Right?' Clay said accusingly.  
  
'No. Marcus made it very clear I would not see you. So, he either lied…,' Now some pieces were falling into place for Amy. 'Or, Marcus wasn't sure where you are. When was the last time you checked in with anyone Clay?' she asked. Was he acting on his own? Was CIA not aware of his plan or where he was? Amy was going to find start getting her own answers from him.  
  
Clay however ignored the question. He wanted his information first. 'What are your orders?'  
  
Amy recognized the evasion, and also started to see beyond the front he had set up. She notes the signs of fatigue, the dark circles under his eyes, the stooped posture, and hollow cheeks. After a pause, she answers his question calmly. At least her anger had gone. 'My orders are to set up a safe house. Provide food and rest for any agent who contacts me. I can give first aid if needed, currency, supplies. I should collect any information, and pass it along when I get back.'  
  
She waited for a reaction to this information, and received a pointed, haunted stare. Reaction time is down too, she thought to herself, another sign of fatigue. A look of surprise was there too, but was quickly covered up. Finally he turned away from her to think. 'Clay, tell me what is going on.'  
  
'That's classified.' He answered, and moved further away. He was starting to relax, and she saw just how worn out he was. He was beginning to let go of the façade that he lived with while working underground to protect himself. He was beginning to feel safe. She hated taking advantage of this release for him, but she had to know what was going on, for both of their sakes. 'Clay, tell me. I'm in the middle of it now and I need to know.'  
  
'You need to be back home and safe, that's what we both need.' Clay retorted. 'You are my wife, and I love you, but my world doesn't revolve around you, to coin a phrase.'  
  
Amy knew this was just the exhaustion talking. He wasn't thinking clearly. She moved to him and placed her hand gently on his arm. He looked at her wearily at first, and then with a sigh, gave into her. Clay was too tired, too weak to argue any more. He had let his guard down for one moment, and had lost the strength to replace it. He knew that was the plan in the first place. 'Please Clay, talk to me.' She said. It wasn't fair, he thought. He began the explanation.  
  
'Three agents have been found dead in the past two months. They had been beaten, tortured like you.' He looked at her, amazed again at what she had survived. 'They had gotten too close maybe, and were caught. But Kharrat has to be stopped. He is putting an army together now and he has to be captured and the group broken up. I'm close Amy. I could do it.'  
  
Amy was scared, for him and for herself. She asked 'Why you? Is there anyone else who can help you? It sounds too dangerous on your own.'  
  
'I may be the only one left out here that could bring them down. I have to try.' Clay said wearily.  
  
'Clay,' Amy began, but he interrupted her, gently taking her face in his hands. 'He knew I would have the hardest time resisting you.' Clay said.  
  
'Who? What are you talking about Clay?' Amy asked.  
  
'What are your exact orders? What have you left out?' Clay asked again, knowing there was more.  
  
Amy sighed and repeated the memorized list, 'To provide a safe house, offer food, rest, supplies, currency, and…' she paused as another piece fell into place. 'Provide papers and contacts for the agents to get out of the country, and encourage them to use it.'  
  
Clay thought for a moment, and then asked, 'When do you leave?'  
  
'I have my papers to leave in 3 days.'  
  
Clay looked at her. He loved her so much, and had been alone for so long. He finally let go of the last of his defenses. 'Marcus knew exactly what he was doing. I am the last available operative in the area, and he wants me to come in. He knew I wouldn't come in willingly. If he had passed orders through the usual channels, he knew I would have ignored them. This mission is personal with me, and though I shouldn't be involved, he let me handle it. But now it is too dangerous, there is no back up anymore. He had to convince me to come back, and knew I would have the hardest time resisting the order from my wife. That is why you are here.' Clay closed his eyes a moment; it was getting harder to keep them open. He looked at Amy again. He knew he would do anything to keep her safe. 'Marcus is hoping I will go back with you, to keep you safe.'  
  
Clay was leaning more and more on Amy. His exhaustion was taking over, and he was having a hard time staying awake and on his feet. Amy decided the rest of this discussion could wait. 'Clay, you need to rest now.' She put her arm around him, and turned toward the other room in the house, the one with a bed.  
  
'I'm afraid if I sleep, I'll sleep straight through for a week.' Clay said with a smile.  
  
'It doesn't matter. I'm here; I'll watch your back.' Amy stated as she helped him lay down on the low bed.  
  
'Did you bring a quilt?' he asked sleepily. 'I could always sleep under one of your quilts.' He stretched out on the mattress and was instantly asleep.  
  
Amy shook her head, looking at him. 'I don't think you will have any trouble.' She tucked a blanket around him, and left the room.  
  
CIA Safe House Village in Iraq 1312 hours local time  
  
Clay started to slowly be aware of sounds around him, voices from the street, a cart going by, and a woman singing. A soft breeze moved across his face and he smiled, thinking of Amy. All the lazy mornings he had been with her. Waking up to hear her humming or singing softly in the kitchen as she began breakfast. If he kept his eyes closed, Clay thought, I can pretend a little longer that she is here with me. He smelled meat frying, and eggs cooking. His empty stomach turned over in hunger. When did I eat last? He asked himself. He opened his eyes and looked around the room. He was in a room, in a bed…then the memory of yesterday came to him, but he still wasn't ready to believe it. He sat upright in bed and called 'Amy!' only half expecting that she would answer, and he would be sure it had all been a dream.  
  
After only a moment, he saw her. She came to the door to the small room, wearing some dark Iraqi clothes, and her head was bear, her face was bright and smiling. 'Hey sleepy. I thought the smell of food would finally wake you up.'  
  
Clay wasn't sure if it was the sight of her in front of him, the lack of food or the adrenaline rush of waking up, probably a bit of all three, but suddenly he was dizzy, and his vision blurred. He put his head down on his knees until the dizziness pasted. Amy came to sit beside him in the bed, and put her arm around him. 'I know I'm beautiful, but you don't have to faint at the sight of me.' She joked.  
  
His voice was muffled as he said 'You are beautiful. The most beautiful thing I have seen in months.' He brought his head up slightly and looked at her. 'I love you, so much.'  
  
'I love you too.' She said smiling. 'Come on, breakfast is ready. You will feel better once you eat something.'  
  
He slowly slid off the bed and followed her into the other room. He remembered it all now, and knew they had some unfinished business to discuss. But it could wait until he had eaten. He sat down and dug right in to the food she had prepared. It was all delicious. Half way through, he noticed she was not eating, just sitting across from him watching. 'You are not eating?' he asked with a mouth full of food.  
  
'No, I have eaten already, twice.'  
  
'Twice?' he asked confused.  
  
'It is pasted noon Clay. You slept the clock round, and then some. Clay just shook his head and kept eating. 'It has been a while since you had a meal, or a full night's sleep, right?' Amy stated, watching him.  
  
Clay had finished the first helping, and was dishing up more on his plate. 'I've slept where and when I can. I ran out of food and money a while ago, and have traded or scrounged or begged for food since. I can look pretty pathetic when I have to.' He said, almost proud of himself.  
  
'You wouldn't have to try very hard to look pathetic right now.' Amy said.  
  
Clay smiled at that remark. He could imagine what he looked like now, dirty, tired, scruffy beard, ripped and dirty clothes. He finally sat back, having satisfied that hunger, and looked across at his smiling wife, and felt a new hunger, which had nothing to do with his stomach. 'How much time is there before night fall?' he asked, eyeing her.  
  
Amy slowly got up, taking away some dishes and moving to the sink. 'Almost 5 hours I would say.' She answered.  
  
'Good. Just enough time.' Clay said, moving behind her.  
  
'Enough time for what?' she asked, and turned to see him hovering beside her.  
  
Clay slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. 'Enough time to take my wife to bed' and he began to demonstrate what he had in mind to do there, nibbling here and there on her neck and ears.  
  
Amy giggled, and moved in closer to him. It had been a long time. 'And then what happens after dark?' she asked, thinking she knew what he had in mind.  
  
'Then we pack up, get out of here, and get you started for home.' Clay stated between kisses.  
  
Amy stiffened at this reply. 'No' she said, and pulled away from him, turning around and facing the sink. This was going to be cleared up between now, before anything else, no matter how bad she wanted him.  
  
Clay was just as unmoving however. 'Yes you are Amy. I'm sending you home now.' Clay was not in the mood to argue over this one point.  
  
'Clay, I can't go anywhere for 2 days. My travel papers from CIA are pre-dated. To try and change them, or use them would arouse suspicion and I need to avoid that.'  
  
'Amy, I need to finish the mission here, and it is too dangerous for you.' Clay stated.  
  
'Just how are you going to finish this without any backup?' Amy demanded.  
  
'You have contacts for me? I will use them.' Clay answered.  
  
'These are people who can help you with some information passing. They are not going to cover your back, or go out looking for you if you are missing a few days.'  
  
'I'll be fine.' He said to reassure her.  
  
'You just said it was dangerous. You will be alone out there. You need back up,' she started, but he cut her off.  
  
'I can't wait for any new back up to arrive, and I can't go home now and leave this job unfinished. I'm too close.'  
  
'I'll stay. I'll be your back up.' Amy said. It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.  
  
'Out of the question.' Clay said and moved away from her. The moment was lost now.  
  
Amy was not ready to give up so easily. 'We wouldn't travel together. I will stay a day or two behind. You can leave messages with the list of contacts…' the plan was all ready forming in her mind how they could do it.  
  
Clay would not even listen. 'No, it is too dangerous. I won't let you.'  
  
'Clay I can handle myself.'  
  
'I know you can. I don't want to worry about you behind me.' Clay saw again the sight of her in the hospital bed in Baghdad after she had been found. 'Beaten up, or with a bullet through your head this time. No, you are going home and that is final.'  
  
Amy knew she had lost, that he would not change his mind, he was too protective, but she was still mad. 'And you will stay here alone. Oh, that's right, some kind of super spy huh?'  
  
He just stared at her from across the room.  
  
'You'll send me home; risk your life, then what? I'm the one who gets to imagine you in a ditch somewhere with a bullet through your head!' she shouted, close to tears.  
  
Clay knew what she would go through. What she had already gone through these past months because of his work. There was nothing to say to help. He just waited.  
  
Amy calmed down. She moved onto the next subject. 'I have exit papers for you; tickets, money, contacts in and outside the country. They are all set up for one month from now. Can you finish this in a month?' she asked, looking up at him.  
  
Clay thought he could finish it in a month. He would finish it, or be dead in that time, but he didn't say that to Amy. He suspected she knew it all ready anyway. 'A month will probably be enough time.'  
  
'Promise me you will start home in one month, no matter where you are.' She pleaded.  
  
Clay came over to her, sensing an end to their quarrel, an arrangement they could both live with. He put his arms around her, and looked her solemnly in the eye, 'I give you my vow, as seriously as the vows I took before the minister the last time we were together, that I will come home to you in a month.' He hoped with all his heart he could keep that promise. And, that he would come home alive to her, and not in a box.  
  
Amy looked at Clay, and knew the promise was real, but that they both hoped he would be alive to fulfill the promise. 'All right.' She said.  
  
Clay leaned down to seal the promise with a kiss. A kiss that confessed his love for her, and his need for her.  
  
Amy moved her mouth away, and whispered 'Stay with me here for two days.'  
  
'No, Amy….,' he whispered back.  
  
She stopped his protest with her fingers, and pleading in her eyes. 'Clay, you are exhausted. You need rest; need to get your strength back, before you take on the world again.'  
  
'I'm fine.' He told her. 'I have plenty of strength.' And he pulled her in tighter to let her feel just how much strength he had.  
  
'I know,' she said with a sly smile. 'But do it for me. Give me these 2 days with you.'  
  
Wary, Clay said, 'You are not going to change my mind about sending you home. It tore my heart out to leave you that morning outside the house, but I will say goodbye to you again.' He looked in her eyes, and saw the loneliness there. He knew his eyes showed the same emotion, his heart was just as lonely. 'I can give you two days.' And without another word, he kissed her deeply, and moved toward the small room with the bed on the floor.  
  
One month later Train station Somewhere in Iraq 1632 hours local time  
  
Aamal/Clay bought his train ticket, and moved out of the station building toward the platform into the late afternoon sun. He had said good bye to the contact already, outside the station. There was a place open on the bench under the roof in the shade, but he was too restless to sit right now, so he moved around the platform, looking casually at the other travelers.  
  
There were many women and children moving around, waiting for the train, and some older men. There didn't seem to be too many young men around, or many that were around his age. No doubt they were out fighting, or policing somewhere.  
  
Clay watched some boys playing nearby. Then he heard a mother calling them, obviously chewing them out because they had strayed too far. Mothers are the same the world over he thought, with a slight smile.  
  
He thought of his own mother, and of Amy. He was keeping his promise. He was on his way home. He had the ticket in his hand to start the long and complicated journey back to Washington. Part of him was glad to be on the way home. He was tired of living this way. But part of him was disappointed too. The mission was not finished. Kharrat was still out there. He had lost their trail a week ago, and had not been able to find more information about where they had gone. The resources had run out now, and he was left with no choice but to pack up and leave. He would have to continue watching for signs for them from the government level.  
  
As he paced around the platform, he noticed three large trucks drive up on the far side of the railway yard, where some cargo cars were standing. He continued watching, and saw Mohammad Hassid get out of one of the trucks. Clay was sure it was him. After the time they had spent together in the prison in Baghdad, he would not forget that face. Hassid was walking to one of the cargo cars, and directing men from the trucks and the area of the rail yard to begin loading the cargo from the railway cars, into his trucks.  
  
Then Clay saw Kharrat, he approached Hassid from another one of the trucks. They were right here! The men were pointing guns at the railway workers to get them to help in the loading of the cargo. Clay wished he could just pull out a gun, and shoot them both on sight, but it would not help matters, and would surely be the death of him.  
  
He mind was racing. This was his chance. He could just walk up and join the loading of the trucks, and infiltrate the group. But what then, assassinate the leaders in their sleep one night? Or, join the group, find out their plans then try and get word to the authorities and try to get word to the coalition forces and try to stop them? He had to do something, he couldn't just walk away. They had fallen right into his lap! He knew enough Farsi to get by, he thought. He could do it for a few days….  
  
Clay looked down at his own train ticket, but he did not see the writing there, he only saw Amy's face. 'Darling, I'm sorry.' He said, and ripped the ticket in half. That may have been his last chance with her too. Breaking this promise…she just had to understand. He had to stop them, for the country's sake. That was what he was here to do.  
  
As he dropped the ruined ticket to the ground, he watched it flutter away. 'I love you, Amy.' He said into the wind.  
  
He the pack with his few belongings onto his back, wrapped the scarf around the lower part of his head, and walked over to the railway cars. He stepped into line, and received a box, which he then brought over to one of the trucks, and helped load the supplies.  
  
Six weeks later Amy Webb's Residence Alexandria, VA 2020 hours local time  
  
Amy sat in the window, reading one of her favorite books. Some music was playing in the background. She had worked late at JAG Headquarters, and was now enjoying the quiet evening at home. She had been counting the days since she came home from her assignment in Iraq. She thought she would be hearing from Clay soon, confirming he was on his way home. She hoped so anyway.  
  
The doorbell rang, and she marked her place and went to open the door. There stood Marcus Stillman. 'Hello Amy.' He said.  
  
Amy was surprised, but glad to see Marcus. 'Marcus. Come in, please.' She said.  
  
Marcus entered the room. 'Please sit down.' Amy offered. She was hoping he had some news for her about Clay, and when he might be home.  
  
Marcus sat down, and looked at Amy's smiling excited face. He hated this part of his job. He especially hated having to do this for Clay, and Amy.  
  
'So, do you have some news about my husband? Is he on his way home?' Amy asked hopefully.  
  
'No, Amy, Clay is not on his way home.' Marcus said. He wanted to take this slowly. Fast or slow, it never seemed to help.  
  
Amy sat back on the chair with a frustrated sigh. 'He had promised me…' then she stopped. She didn't want to go into what Clay had promised her with his boss, it may not be appropriate. 'What happened? Did he get too close to Kharrat to give up right now?' she asked. Maybe that was it, she thought. Maybe he was close to catching Kharrat and his group, and would be home a little later.  
  
'Amy, I'm sorry, but no…' Marcus began, but Amy interrupted him. He saw the beginnings of fear in her eyes; maybe she was guessing what he was really here for.  
  
'They haven't caught him, have they?' A cold fist had started to grab at her heart. She couldn't bare the thought of Clay a prisoner of those animals. 'Please, Marcus, they aren't holding him.'  
  
'No, Amy he is not a prisoner.' It was time to stop this. Marcus took a deep breath. 'Clayton is dead. I'm sorry Amy.'  
  
Marcus watched as the look of fear on Amy's face was replaced by confusion. Then that was replaced by shock. Her features went blank as the realization sank inside.  
  
Amy's body went numb. Dead. Marcus said Clayton was dead. 'You're sure, Marcus. He has been missing, presumed dead before.' Somehow Amy knew that this was just grasping at straws.  
  
All Marcus said was, 'We are sure. It was confirmed. I'm sorry.'  
  
The only thing Amy felt was the cold fist constricting her heart. The rest of her was empty. 'I had always…I mean…I knew it was always a possibility…' Amy said, mostly to herself. Her hands were cold, and were beginning to shake. She pressed them together, squeezing her fingers together to stop the shaking, at least for a little while. She was not finished talking with Marcus yet. 'What happened?'  
  
Marcus looked at her and debated how much to tell her. 'Tell me Marcus, and don't give me the company line. I'll go over there and find out for myself if you don't. I'd probably do a better job of it too. You know that.' Amy said angrily as he hesitated to answer her question.  
  
He knew she was right. He decided to tell her everything. 'He was on his way home Amy. He had begun making the contacts, following the exit plan. His contact brought him to the train station that would take him out of the country, confirmed that Clay had bought his ticket and moved off to the platforms. The contact left after that. There was an explosion. The track had been booby trapped and the train Clay was to board set it off. The platform was destroyed, as well as most of the train.' He stopped here; he wasn't sure how to put the next part into words. 'There is nothing left, Amy. What remains there were of those who were killed on the platform were buried quickly in the city graveyard.'  
  
So, an unmarked grave in a far away country, with probably nothing left to exhume even if she wanted to try. She didn't. It didn't matter really. Clay was gone. Bringing any earthly remains back here would not be much comfort for her now.  
  
Amy sat and listened, unsure of what to do or say next. Marcus sat across from her, waiting for whatever she may need. A thought did come to her. 'What about Porter?'  
  
'I am on my way to talk to her. You needed to be told first. Would you like to come with me to talk to her?' He asked. He didn't want to leave her alone right now.  
  
'No. I will leave that to you.' Amy said.  
  
'I don't think you should be alone right now, Amy. Is there anyone I can call for you? Or take you somewhere?' Marcus asked helpfully.  
  
Amy thought for a minute. There were calls to make, one to her father, and to her brother. She would have to call Sarah and Harm too. That all seemed like too much to handle right now. She just wanted to be alone.  
  
'No. I will call my family myself, not right now though. I will let you go over to Porter's and talk with her. Tell her I will call her in the morning.' Amy promised.  
  
'Call me too, Amy.' Marcus suggested. 'Call me if you need anything at all. I want to be sure you are all right.'  
  
'Thank you Marcus.' Amy wasn't sure she would ever be all right again. Her life with Clay had been so short it seemed, and the rest of her life stretched out in front of her…empty.  
  
Marcus got up, laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a fatherly squeeze. He didn't know what else to say or do. Nothing would have helped anyway he thought. He moved quietly through the room to the door, and let himself out, leaving Amy by herself.  
  
End of Chapter 10 


	11. Red, White and Blue Webb

Author: Claire Vincent Date: September 2004  
  
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.  
  
WEBB Odyssey Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.  
  
Rating: PG-13 Classification: JAG - Story Webb/other Romance - Adventure Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.  
  
Chapter 11 Red, White and Blue Webb  
  
Outside Insurgent Compound Northern Iraq 2018 hours local time  
  
Combined US, Coalition, and Iraqi forces had been pounding this compound of an insurgent group for almost 3 days. They were a tough bunch, but they were going to lose this battle, and it was going to be soon.  
  
Gunnery Sergeant Peter Hobbs and his squad were already inside the compound, and were making their way slowly to what was believed to be the main building, where the leaders were reported to be holed up. Hobbs expected heavy resistance, and had ordered his team to approach with caution.  
  
They had already advanced to within about 30 yards, and were about to make the last move to the building itself. Hobbs used hand signals to order half his team to run ahead and reach the building, while the rest stayed behind and cover them. He moved ahead with his men, and made it to the building without a shot being fired by either side. They had expected tough resistance in this area of the compound, but had not seen any yet. Maybe the advanced reports of this being the main building were wrong, he thought.  
  
Hobbs crawled quietly a few feet under a window, and listened. He heard people moving about inside, but no voices. He wasn't sure, but it almost sounded like there was a fist fight going on in the room. He heard punches, and bodies falling, and furniture breaking. This was all very strange. They had to secure the building, which meant going inside and capturing anyone inside, and securing any and all documents. Hobbs signaled his team again, and the signal was pasted round the building to all members. After a count of 25, he moved to the door, and stepped inside, with a couple men following him.  
  
They made their way down a short hallway, seeing no one inside, but hearing the scuffle in the room at the far end of the building. On a count of three, he and his two men stormed the room, with rifles ready and shouting loudly.  
  
Hobbs wasn't surprised at the sight in the room. A fight had been going on inside. Papers were scattered over the floor, and broken furniture lay everywhere. One man lay in a crumpled heap on the floor unconscious. Two other men had been struggling together, until Hobbs' men broke them up, separating them one on each side of the small room. Both had cuts and burses on their faces, and were breathing hard.  
  
The gunnery sergeant took a good look at both men, and told them 'You are now in the custody of the U.S. Marines.'  
  
A voice reached him from one side. One of the prisoners spoke, in very clear English. 'That won't be necessary Gunnery Sergeant. I am an American citizen.' The man paused here to catch his breath, and wait for the Gunny to turn and give him his full attention. 'My name is Clayton Webb. I work for the CIA.'  
  
You could have pushed Gunnery Sergeant Hobbs and his men over with a feather at this statement. The two Marines looked to their leader for directions.  
  
Hobbs didn't know what to say. 'You have any ID to prove this Mr. Webb?'  
  
A look of disgust came over the man's face. 'What do you think?' was the surly reply.  
  
'Until it can be verified, I will have to take you into custody. I'm just following orders.' There, thought Hobbs. He had to follow his orders. He could keep this one separate from the others, until they were able to verify the story. Hobbs sort of trusted him, but he wouldn't be the first American caught fighting with the enemy in this war. Hobbs just had to cover himself and his actions. The Gunny ordered his men to secure the prisoners, and lead them out. The small group prepared to leave.  
  
Clay allowed the Marines to bind his wrists. It was degrading, but he knew they were only following orders. A few calls should be all it took to clear this up. He had been out of contact with all coalition forces since that day at the train station. How long ago was that? Clay had lost track of time, but it had been too long. CIA had to know he was still here and probably expected that he had gone deeper under ground. This will all be verified, and then he will be able to report on all terrorist activity in the area, their tactics, strengths, plans, everything. It was good that coalition forces had broken into the compound, and he had enough information to help clean up this half of the country. At last, his work was done here. He could really go home. It was hard to believe, but it was a welcome thought.  
  
The Marines lead them out of the building. The compound that Clay had lived in for the past months was hardly recognizable since the attack. It seemed that most of the fighting was over. More prisoners were being rounded up from other areas and they all were brought over to troop transfer vehicles. Kharrat walked in front of Clay. Hassid was still unconscious and was being carried out on a stretcher behind them. In the final part of attack Clay had finally made his way from his appointed spot, and came to take care of Kharrat and Hassid himself. They would be taken away alright, and made to suffer for all the things they had done, but Clay had wanted first crack at them. He had just about won too, when the Marines broke into the room. That was all right. In fact, everything was going to be all right now.  
  
A week later JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA 0803 hours local time  
  
CMDR Harmon Rabb, Jr. exited the elevator and began walking over to his office. He had been working for the Sec Nav's office for the past week, and knew he had a pile of work on his desk here at JAG waiting for him. The TV monitors were on in the bull pen as usual, set to ZNN. As usual he was ignoring them as he entered his office, but Bud followed right behind him into the office.  
  
'Sir, you may want to come out here and see this report.' Bud said.  
  
'I haven't got time this morning Bud. I have to begin digging out my desk again…'  
  
'Sir,' Bud insisted. 'You really need to see this.'  
  
Harm looked up at him, and noted his intent expression. Harm gave up, and stepped outside to the bull pen, looking up at the TV.  
  
A ZNN reporter was saying something about a US citizen suspected of serving in some kind of paramilitary group in Iraq. The suspect would not talk to authorities in Iraq, and insisted on being brought to the US to face charges. Harm only half heard any this. The moment he looked up, he saw the man dressed in a bright orange prisoner suit. He couldn't believe it. It was the face he thought he would never see again. It was Clayton Webb.  
  
Harm was struck dumb. He didn't know what to do, or say. He tried to concentrate on what was being said while he watched Clayton being placed into an unmarked car and transported somewhere. He didn't even know if it was a live shot, or when it had been videoed. He couldn't concentrate. Clayton Webb, alive, and facing some sort of charges?  
  
The report ended, and the picture changed to another story. Harm stood still, trying to sort everything out. The first thing that came to mind was to call Sarah. He turned to go back to his office, and heard his phone ringing. He thought maybe Sarah had heard the report to, as she drove into the office. But it wasn't his wife's voice on the other end of the phone line.  
  
'Cmdr Harmon Rabb.' He answered.  
  
'Harm?'  
  
Harm stopped, could it be? 'Clay?'  
  
'Hello Harm.' Clay's voice came over the phone very calmly. 'I need your help.' He said simply.  
  
'Yes, it seems you do.' Harm replied, although he didn't know where to begin.  
  
Clay seemed to understand this. 'Harm. I am only allowed one phone call, and I called you. I hope you can help me.'  
  
'Of course, I will do whatever I can. Where are you?' Harm said, then wanted to bite back those words. He obviously was in prison nearby.  
  
Clay told him exactly where he was being held, and when he could receive visitors. Harm wrote everything down, and promised to come as soon as possible. 'And Harm. Call Amy for me. I tried the house, but…it was disconnected. Has she moved? Its ok if she did, but there was no forwarding number…' Clay sounded disappointed, and a little worried.  
  
Harm wished he could reassure Clay, but could not. Now was not the time to go into all of that however, not over the phone. He would talk to Clay face to face. 'I'll take care of it.' He told Clay. 'And call my mother too. Try to reassure her that everything will be all right. I hate that she will see those reports on TV that must be out there now.'  
  
Yes, Harm thought, this will be quite a shock to her too. 'I will call her too. Leave it to me. I will bring Sarah in on this too.'  
  
'Thanks,' Clay said. 'I think I will need all the help I can get. I'll see you soon?' Clay asked a little anxiously.  
  
'Yes. We will be there soon.' Harm promised, and hung up the line.  
  
Federal Prison Outside Baltimore Maryland  
  
Clay hung up the phone and immediately felt the guard step up behind him, waiting for him to stand. Clay obliged him, and they stepped toward the door to the hall.  
  
Another guard opened the door, and the three of them, with Clay in the middle, walked down the pristine hallway in the bright light. They made one turn to the left, then down another identical hall. At the fourth cell on the left the threesome stopped. The electronic door was opened by some faceless guard watching through a camera above, and Clay stepped inside his cell.  
  
He continued facing the wall to the back of the cell. It was bad enough that he had to hear the cold clang of the door closing; he didn't want to watch it too. After the lock clicked into place, Clay could hear the guards move off. The cell was small, with a bed, chair, table, toilet and sink. Clay sat down in the chair, close to the table, and continued to face the wall. There was another camera in his cell also, so he was never completely alone, but he didn't feel he had to face the blank stare of the camera all the time. Having his back to it was all the privacy he was going to get.  
  
He looked down at the table, but did not see it. He closed his eyes and wished again that he would wake up from this nightmare and be standing outside his home, Amy opening the door with a smile on her face and welcoming him home.  
  
Since being taken as a prisoner at the compound, his life had turned upside down. The prisoners were taken to a holding camp, and Clay was separated from the main population because he was an American. The camp commander had taken his statement, and information, who Clay was, who he worked for, his superiors at CIA, and who should be contacted to verify his reasons for being in Iraq, and in that paramilitary compound.  
  
After that, Clay had waited. It was almost relaxing for him. He didn't have to constantly watch his back, or be careful of everything he said or did. He could rest when he wanted, he didn't have to find food, and he was sure everything would be fine. One day became two, and two became three and still no word from the camp commander. Finally on the fourth day, Clay was brought into an interrogation room, and the commander was waiting for him.  
  
'None of the contacts you gave us were of any help in identifying you.' The Marine Colonel stated. 'They were either unavailable, or denied any knowledge of a Clayton Webb.'  
  
Clay could not believe it. 'What do you mean? What are you saying?'  
  
The colonel continued, 'Until we can find another American to collaborate your story, you will be known as Prisoner 514887, American John Doe. Unless there are other people we can contact you will stay a prisoner.'  
  
Clay interrupted him here, 'You are saying that you contacted the list of people I gave you and they would not confirm who I am. I'm Clayton Webb! You sent the picture and the finger prints you took?'  
  
'Yes. Now is there anyone else we should contact?' the colonel was sympathic it this man's situation. He obviously was an American, but the paper work was lost, or he really was someone who had gone to the other side, and was trying to cover his tracks now. The colonel didn't know what to believe, but he had to follow procedures.  
  
Clay had not heard the last question. His mind was racing. Something was drastically wrong. Something big had happened, bigger than Clay and the colonel would ever know about. Whatever that something was, he didn't want to drag his family and friends into it. Not yet. He had to think, and he had to get back to the US.  
  
The colonel was asking again. 'I said, is there anyone else to contact who…'  
  
Clay interrupted him, 'No. No one. What will happen now? I am an American citizen, you do believe that don't you?' he asked.  
  
The colonel looked at him from across the table, and answered him honestly. 'I believe you are, or at least were educated in the US.'  
  
I graduated from Harvard for God sake! Thought Clay, but didn't say it out loud. He didn't want the colonel to start trying to look there too. He had to be careful what he said now. He asked instead. 'What will happen now? Will I be sent to the US?'  
  
'Oh yes, you will be sent as soon as possible to the US to face charges.' He started to stand up, indicating the end of the discussion, and his involvement with this particular prisoner.  
  
'Charges, what charges?' Clay asked him.  
  
'Treason against the United States.'  
  
Treason, treason, treason against the United States…..  
  
The words still echoed in Clay's head, and made his heart sink to his feet. He was in prison, facing a life sentence, or even death. He just had to start finding some answers, or he would slowly go mad.  
  
His call to Harm was the first step.  
  
The following morning Federal Prison outside Baltimore, MD 0814 local time  
  
The lights came on in his cell at what he supposed was the usual time, whatever that was. There was no clock in the hallway or cell. Probably just as well. He didn't really need to know how slowly time was passing anyway.  
  
The guard came and led him down to the showers. He was handed a clean towel, soap, shampoo, all in the small size one usually sees in a hotel, disposable shaver, and a clean uniform. He cleaned up and was taken to the mess hall for breakfast. As he was going in, he was told that he should eat quickly, he had visitors waiting.  
  
Clay ate what was served, without really noticing what it was, and then he was lead to a different part of the cell block, to a larger room, with a table and chairs, and finally some friendly faces.  
  
First his mother approached him. So strong, but looking older than he remembered. She opened her arms and held him close. The tears that she had been struggling to hold back came through. 'Clayton. Oh, Clayton.' Was all she could say.  
  
'Hello Mother.' He said, holding her while she cried. 'I'm so sorry to put you through all this.' He whispered. He didn't know what else to say.  
  
Once he felt she had calmed down, she pulled way to look at him. 'You're so thin.' She said looking at him.  
  
Another person came with her arms open. 'Clay.'  
  
'Sarah.' He said, and welcomed her embrace. She also was at a loss for words right now. 'It's good to see you.' She finally said, as he pulled away. Clay nodded. 'Thank you for coming.'  
  
Behind her stood Harm. He reached around his wife and took Clay's hand. The exchanged a masculine hug, one arm around each other, then sort of shook hands again. This was as important to Clay as the welcome from his mother, and Sarah. It felt so good to be among loved ones again. Better than he ever imagined.  
  
He searched each of their faces, and saw love and support, but not the face he had longed to see.  
  
'Where is Amy? Is she coming later?' Clay asked.  
  
His mother and two best friends in the world, all looked at each other, waiting for one of them to answer. None of them seemed to willing to offer a response. Nor did any of them meet his eyes.  
  
Finally, his mother said, 'Clayton, why don't you sit down.'  
  
Clay had feared this. He expected it, but still was hoping Amy would be here for him. 'She doesn't want to talk to me, does she?' He knew Amy would be angry with him. He just knew if they could talk, he could try and explain things. He just wanted the chance. He turned to Sarah, 'Couldn't you talk to her? You are her best friend. Please. Try and convince her to call me. I just want to talk to her.' Clay knew he sounded like he was pleading, but he didn't care.  
  
The other three still looked at each other, and the nerves were becoming more obvious. There was something they were reluctant to tell him. He could feel it.  
  
'I wish I could call her, Clay.' Sarah said. 'It's just not that easy.' She hesitated.  
  
'What's going on?' Now Clay was getting nervous. 'What aren't you telling me?' He was nervous, and fear was coming up close behind. Amy was hurt. Amy had not made it home safely when she had left him in Iraq. She was dead. Clay's voice rose in tandem with his growing fears, as all the possibilities raced through his head. Amy had found someone else. He looked at all three of them in turn. 'Where is Amy?' he demanded.  
  
'Clay, please sit down.' His mother pleaded.  
  
'I don't want to sit down Mother.' He yelled back at her. 'I want to know where my wife is! One of you better start talking.'  
  
'Clay, calm down. We'll tell you everything.' Harm finally spoke up. 'As far as we know Amy is fine. There is nothing to worry about.' He tried to reassure his friend. It worked. The sweat that had broke out on Clay's face, and the fear in his eyes seemed to disappear with his words. 'Have a seat, we will tell you everything we know.'  
  
Clay took a breath, and nodded, as he pulled out a chair and sat down. They all followed suit, and Harm began.  
  
'After you left, after the wedding, Amy was assigned to JAG HQ, and has been working there since.'  
  
Porter picked up the thread here, 'It was good for her Clayton. She was very worried about you, and missed you, and it was good for her to be with her friends. While you have been away, we have all kept very close ties on Amy.'  
  
'Thank you. I appreciate that. I'm sure Amy did too.' Clay said, calmer now.  
  
Sarah continued. 'After about 2 months she even took a week off. Went out to see a friend in Oregon that seemed to do her a world of good. She came back very up beat, and hopeful.'  
  
Oregon? Clay thought. 'That would have been how long ago?' he asked.  
  
'Um…well fourth months ago now I guess.' Sarah answered.  
  
Amy didn't go to Oregon, that was when she had been sent to Iraq to meet with him. She had not told her best friends about that trip. He didn't understand why, but he would not interrupt the story now. She had her reasons, and until he knew, he wouldn't tell them where Amy really had been that week.  
  
The three of them stopped again and looked at him. Porter decided she should be the one to tell next part. 'Clayton, three months ago, we were told you were listed as missing, presumed dead, by CIA.' She stopped here and let that sink in for him.  
  
'I'm dead? You thought I was missing and probably dead?' what did all this mean? He couldn't think straight.  
  
Porter continued, 'Marcus Stillman told Amy and I separately that he had a report that confirmed you were killed when a train station was blown up. That you had made contacts and was on your way home, and terrorists had booby trapped a railroad track that had blown up the platform and most of the station that you had been last seen at. Around 100 people were killed, and you were counted as on of them.'  
  
'What did Amy….?' He asked.  
  
'Amy took it very hard, Clayton.' His mother said. 'It was all very hard for her.'  
  
They were all quiet, watching Clay as disbelief and confusion moved across his face. Clay didn't know what to do or say. If he was thought to be dead…, it may explain a few things. But he had too many questions now, and too few answers.  
  
'What did Amy do?' he asked quietly.  
  
'She tried hard to…' Sarah began, but was at a loss for words to describe what she saw her best friend go through at the news of the death of her husband in the field. 'Amy tried to pick up her life. But she was so unhappy, Clay. She told me she still looked for you everywhere, waited for the phone to ring and she would hear your voice.'  
  
'After a month or so, Amy came and told me she had to leave Washington. She had decided to start a new life of her own. Washington had been your home, not hers. She wanted to leave all the sadness and worry behind, and start her own life.' Sarah explained. 'She resigned her commission with the Marines. Packed up her things and left. She said she would be in touch.'  
  
'Did she go back to Wisconsin? Have you talked to her father?' Clay asked hopefully.  
  
'I've talked with Mr. Harris a few times. He has not heard anything from her, and he is getting worried.' Porter answered.  
  
'She just left? She ran away, and you all let her go?' Clay was getting worried again.  
  
'Clay we couldn't forbid her from leaving, or tie her here.' Harm reasoned. 'She is a grown woman, and was very unhappy. We didn't like the idea of her leaving, but we had to let her make her own decisions. We had all hoped she would have contacted us by now to at least let us know she was all right.'  
  
Clay wasn't ready to give up yet. 'What about…, a…a Driver's license, or bank accounts? Is there any trail to follow to find out where she is?'  
  
'I began looking at that the moment I finished talking with you yesterday. I haven't found any trail yet.' Harm said.  
  
'Mother, what about the bank accounts. We opened a joint account right before the wedding.' Clay asked.  
  
'I haven't had the heart to close it yet, Clayton.' Porter said. 'And it hasn't been touched since you left. Amy kept her own account open even after the wedding, and just used that. When she left, that was cleaned out and closed.'  
  
'So she took her money, closed the account, left town and no one has heard from her in three months?' Clay paused, trying to get his mind to accept these facts. 'It's almost like she doesn't want anyone to know where she is.' There was something here, he just couldn't put his finger on it yet.  
  
'Clay,' Sarah interrupted, 'we all thought you were dead, until we saw you on the news reports.'  
  
'That's right darling.' Porter agreed. 'You may not have realized this, but your picture is all over the news. They are not using your name, because they don't believe you are who you say you are. But your face is there. Wherever Amy is, she will see you, will see you are alive and she will come back. For whatever reason Amy ran away, the biggest was that she loved you. And still does. It might be a shock to find out you are alive. But she will come back, Clay. She loves you.'  
  
Clay looked at the smiling face of his mother, and hoped with all his heart she was right.  
  
Marie's Café Northern Ottawa, Canada The next morning 0957 local time  
  
Porter Webb had no idea how right she was.  
  
Marie's Café occupied a bend on a stretch of lonely Canadian highway, equally distant between two small towns. It was a humble establishment that boasted hearty homemade meals. Marie's customers were the truckers that had routes up and down this road, vacationing families, and in the winter, traveling hockey teams.  
  
The Café looked a little old and run down from the outside and the inside too, if the truth were known. But it was clean, and smelled of good food. Marie was proud of her little café, as she looked over the dining room, and enjoyed a cup of coffee between the breakfast and lunch rushes. In a few minutes, she would have to go in the kitchen and start the prep work for lunch, but now she could relax. There were only a couple of truckers in a booth, talking over coffee, and her waitress was clearing the last of the dirty dishes from a table.  
  
Her new waitress was working out just fine. She had come in for dinner, and inquired about the help wanted sign in the window. Marie had hired her on the spot, no interview. She had also asked about a place to live, and Marie was happy to set her up in the efficiency apartment over the restaurant. That had been 2 months ago, and she had been working there ever since. She was a smart one, could be doing better things than waiting tables in a small restaurant, but she seemed content to be doing this for now. Marie had her suspicions; maybe she was running away from the law, or mean husband, or just running. Marie would learn the story when Aimee was ready to tell it.  
  
While Marie watched Aimee pile dishes in the dish pan, and lift it to bring it in the back, Marie absently listened to the TV that was on in the kitchen. Her cook, and her friend, Charlie, had it tuned into a news channel. The announcer was describing the story of an American found fighting with a terrorist group in Iraq, and how this man was now facing charges for treason. Marie thought, good for the Americans. Stick it to all the terrorists. Then didn't give it any more thought as the relative quiet of the café was shattered with the sound of many breaking dishes.  
  
Marie raced over to the two-way door separating the dining room from the kitchen, where Aimee had just disappeared with the load of dirty dishes. The poor girl looked like she had seen a ghost. She was as white as her apron, staring at the TV that sat on the kitchen counter. At her feet were the remains of dirty dishes, but Aimee did not see them, her eyes were glued to the TV report that showed a picture of the American traitor.  
  
'Aimee, are you all right?' Marie asked as she stooped down to begin gathering the dishes back into the dish pan. 'Did you slip, honey?"  
  
Aimee swallowed, and was able to take her eyes from the TV once the reporter had moved onto the next story. She saw the dishes at her feet, and realized what must have happened. She didn't remember any of it right now. She only remembered seeing that face.  
  
Coming back to herself, Aimee stooped down, and helped Marie pick up the dishes. 'I'm sorry Marie, I don't know….I must have slipped or something.' Aimee said.  
  
'Oh, accidents happen, its ok.' The dishes stacked once again, Marie took them and stood back up. 'I'll just take care of these. Why don't you go sit down, dear. You look a little shook up.'  
  
'Thank you, I think I will.' Aimee said, and moved over to the stairway that led to her room above the café.  
  
Above Marie's Café Northern Ottawa, Canada 1018 local time  
  
Alive. Clay was alive. Amy lay on the narrow bed beside the one window in the small room her employer generously called an 'efficiency apartment'. It consisted of a bed, a beat up dresser, a dirty upholstered chair, and a bathroom Amy could barely turn around in. Right now, she took no notice of her surroundings, staring at the ceiling, replaying the pictures she had just seen on the TV downstairs in the kitchen.  
  
It was defiantly Clay. What was he doing there? How could he be alive? Marcus had been so sure. He was in prison? Facing charges of treason? What was going on?  
  
She had just barely begun to get used to the idea of a life without Clay, without the Marines. She realized running away had been an impulsive thing to do, but she was scared, and confused, and wanted to time to herself, time to plan what came next in her life. The future had become very important.  
  
Now this. Clay was alive, and there were more questions now than when he had died. Or they thought he had died. It was all a jumble.  
  
Where had he been all these months? She could well guess. If Clay had been found with an insurgent group, Amy knew too well who the leaders were. But what had Clay been doing there? How had he gotten there, and why hadn't CIA known where he was and what he was doing? Or had CIA known all along, and just made up the story of his death? But why would they do that? Why put her and Porter through that heartache? Amy paused here in her thoughts. Who could ever know why CIA did anything for that matter? And why hadn't anyone from CIA come forward and claim him as an agent? Amy knew the CIA only took care of their agents when it was convenient. If someone was caught, they were on their own. But to let him be taken to prison?  
  
Had Clay actually been a prisoner of Kharrat and Hassid? It didn't bare thinking about. But US Marines could have told the difference between a prisoner and someone there in the compound…doing what? What had Clay been doing there?  
  
And treason? That was ridiculous! How could anyone accuse Clay of treason? Amy would believe in little green men before she believed that. What was being done about the charges?  
  
Amy sighed in frustration, and tried to calm her head and her heart. There were too many questions now, and the answers were back in Washington. She would have to go back to Washington. Why did the thought of that sadden her? Of course she should go back to be with Clay. He is alive, and still her husband. Still the man she loves, right? She had to help. But what help could she offer? Would he want her help? Was it better she stayed away for now until this was all cleared up?  
  
Yes, she loved Clay. But she could not go back to that life, not now, not after all that has happened. He promised her he would come home in a month. That was four months ago since he had made that vow to her in the hut in Iraq. And he had broken that vow. No matter the circumstances, or what he was trying to do to save the world or his country, he had broken another vow to her. She loved Clay, but was tired of taking the back seat of his life. She wouldn't do it anymore. She couldn't anymore.  
  
The tears started to fall, trailing down her head to pool in her ears as she stared at the ceiling. If she was honest with herself, she could not go back to that kind of life. So where did that leave her and Clay? She didn't have an answer to that question either. He had the answer and he was in prison somewhere near Washington.  
  
She will have to work through the day here, lose herself in the physical work, and try not to dwell on questions she couldn't answer for now. She would leave at the end of the day. Drive back to Washington and try to find her life again. She and Clay will have to work out some sort of arrangement. Married or not, she would always love him, but that may not be enough anymore.  
  
Federal Prison Outside Baltimore MD 1934 hours local time  
  
For the past few days, Clay had been telling his story to Harm and Sarah. He had begun at the train station and told them everything he did in the compound up until the time the Marines had found him in the fight with Kharrat and Hassid.  
  
He had gone through training with all the other men. Clay had prepared for attacks of different kinds, learned to use all sorts of weapons. He had learned tactics the terrorists used to obtain and use information about enemies, the mind set it took to be willing to strap on several pounds of explosives and walk into a public place to blow yourself up.  
  
Clay learned about their supply lines, cash flow, even some of their plans for big operations. He had kept a low profile, acted like he was dedicated to the cause when it was required, and listened to everything.  
  
Harm and Sarah were amazed again and again that Clay was sitting here in prison, facing such outrageous charges, when he should be talking to CIA and the other government officials and passing on what he had learned in three months. It could completely change the war on terror, and how the US handled it, but here he sat, a supposed enemy to his own country.  
  
Clay described how he had left his post a few times at night, under penalty of death if he had been caught, to try and make contact with coalition forces. He had not been able to contact anyone, to pass along any information during this time. He had thought that if he were selected to go on a mission, he would make contact with US forces while on the mission. He had hoped that would be possible anyway, but the opportunity never happened.  
  
When the Marines started moving in on the compound, he had seen both Kharrat and Hassid make tracks for their building, and Clay had been concerned they were trying to destroy evidence and or escape. So he had followed them there, gotten into a fight, and that is when the Marines came in and took over.  
  
Clay had no idea as to why he was charged with treason, or why no one in CIA was willing to come forward and claim him. Aside from his friends and his mother, no one seemed willing to stand up with him. Even Amy seemed to have forgotten him. It had been a few days since he had come back, and they still had heard nothing from her. Clay was at a loss as to what to think of this. Was she still hiding? What was she hiding from? Did she hate him? Probably, he couldn't blame her if she did. They had been married six months, and he had been gone exactly that long, with very little contact. Clay still had not told Harm and Sarah about the few days he and Amy had been together in Iraq. He had no good reason to keep it from them, but he had no good reason to share it either. It really was between he and Amy anyway. Those three days had been very special. Clay had thought of them often in the following months. And thinking of them now, he could not believe Amy had left him. But she had been told he was dead, so was it really leaving him? He folded his hands in front of him on the table, and rested his forehead on them. The three of them had been at it since early morning, and he had a headache. He simply couldn't think anymore.  
  
Harm was quiet too, across the table. He watched Clay rest his head down, and felt sorry for him. Harm shared his frustration, and confusion over the past weeks events, and was angered again at the waste he saw before him. Clayton Webb was a hero. A man who had put his life on the line for the past three months, well, really the past 6 months, or his whole adult life for that matter. And here he was in prison, and no one was coming to his side to claim him.  
  
In two day's time, he and Sarah would accompany Clay into a court room to begin a preliminary hearing to see if there was enough evidence to take Clay to trial for treason. Harm was sure there would be enough to send him to trial. Whoever was pulling strings here, or cutting strings, as the case may be, was sure making an easy case against him. Just how he and Sarah were going to defend Clay was still unclear.  
  
'We have to find out why CIA is disavowing you. And, find someone who will stand up for you and what you did in Iraq.' Harm said, thinking aloud.  
  
Clay's voice came, muffled from the table. 'That will never happen. Once an agent is out, he's out.' The weight of this truth seemed to wash over him, and he wanted to drown in it, and end it all.  
  
'There's got to be a way. There's got to be someone…' Harm insisted.  
  
'We've tried everyone. They won't call us back; they are ignoring us as much as they are ignoring Clay.' Sarah said. 'It's getting late. They are going to kick us out of here in a few minutes. We better box this up, and look at it again tomorrow.'  
  
She knew both men had heard her, but neither of them moved. Sarah wanted to offer comfort to both of them, but didn't know what to do or say that would help.  
  
She stood up, and began gathering the files and papers and notes into a couple of boxes. Harm helped her, and in a few minutes the boxes were closed for the night. They would be here for them to begin again in the morning.  
  
Clay had stayed seated through all the shuffling. A guard came to the door to escort Harm and Sarah from the prison for the night. They said good bye to Clay, but he gave them no response. They left him alone in the room.  
  
Clay just kept his head on the table. He was so tired. He just wanted to go home. But where was home? For over a year now, it had been wherever Amy was. And where was she? Each day he had asked Harm and Sarah if there had been any word from Amy. And each day they had told him no, she had not contacted them.  
  
In a minute or so, a guard would come to escort Clay back to his cell. He could sleep then. Fall into darkness, and forget for a while the darkness that had become his life, and threatened to stay that way.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA 0825 local time Next morning  
  
Harm and Sarah arrived at the office together. They exited the elevator, walked through the bull pen and headed toward Harm's office. They both had a grim expression on their faces, and looked at or talked to no one as they walked through the office. Harm sat down at his desk, and Sarah took a chair on the other side. They put their briefcases on the desk in front of them, then sat back and looked at each other.  
  
Clay's case was not going well. The government was not even allowing him to be recognized by his name, since according to CIA, Clayton Webb was dead. From there, matters just got worse. Both Sarah and Harm had been thinking, and talking about how to handle the case since leaving Clay yesterday. But they had not come up with any defense strategy yet, and they were going to court in two days.  
  
'We don't have a case.' Harm stated.  
  
'We have to find one, and do it today so we are ready. I still think we can make a case for him on his CIA operation record.' Sarah stated hopefully.  
  
'Let's look at that record from the other side.' Harm suggested. 'Clay gets the job done, but he bends the rules to suit himself, and had used us countless times to get the job done. CIA doesn't take kindly to their operatives using non company assets to complete a mission. It makes CIA look bad, and they have to split the credit.' He explained.  
  
'Yes, but the missions were completed.' Sarah insisted.  
  
'Still, it doesn't sit well with CIA.' Harm said. 'And what about bending the rules for his own ends?' he continued.  
  
'What ends are you talking about?' Sarah asked.  
  
'Clay used his CIA clout to get my brother Serge out of a prison camp. I'm forever grateful to him for that, but it can't look good on his record. Then there was the rescue Clay orchestrated with the Admiral for Tim Fox in Italy, against a CIA directive to stay out of it. And what about the Angel Shark investigation? Clay gave us information that the CIA had classified and never would have released to us or the families.'  
  
'Yes, but Clay paid for that mistake with his career, by being sent to South America.' Sarah said.  
  
'Doing time down in South America doesn't wipe the slate clean, Sarah. And look at what happened in Paraguay. He was captured, and nearly got you both killed.' Harm reminded her.  
  
'If you had not gone after us, we probably would be dead now. Certainly Clay would be.' Sarah felt an uncomfortable surge move up her spine at the memory of their days in the hands of Sadik.  
  
'You and I had to stop Sadik that time, and save Clay. Again, making Clay and the CIA look incompetent.' Harm said.  
  
'Then there was Iraq, when Amy was captured. OK, so Clay's op record is not the greatest. Now he turns up still in Iraq, seemingly working on the other side.' Harm paused here, thinking. 'I just can't understand why they are deserting him this way. There has to be something else in the mix, not just a vendetta on Clay for being in that camp, or for his history as an agent.'  
  
They both stare down at the desk in front of them, trying to think of a way they can best defend their friend.  
  
The quiet is broken when Bud walks into the office. 'Good morning Sir, Ma'am. How is Mr. Webb's case going?' he asks brightly.  
  
Harm glances up at him. 'Not well I'm afraid Bud. We can't figure out why no one from CIA is coming forward to say Clay has been working for them all along. They have completely disavowed any knowledge of him. And I know this is CIA, and that's what they do, but…this is Clayton Webb.' Harm finished frustrated.  
  
'Well Sir, having found Mr. Webb in the compound, alive, after everyone thought he was dead and all the others had been ordered out, puts CIA in an embarrassing situation, to say the least.' Bud offered.  
  
'What did you say?' Harm asked. 'What do you mean "all the others had been ordered out"?  
  
'I just mean all the other special ops forces, and operatives had been ordered out of the country a little over a month ago, Sir.' Bud answered.  
  
'Bud what are you talking about? Start from the beginning.' Sarah said.  
  
Bud stepped further into the office to tell the story. 'About a month ago, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez stopped by JAG to say hello to everyone while he was in Washington. He had just returned from duty with his special ops team in Iraq. There had been a Presidential Order for all intelligence activities by US and coalition forces to cease, and all of those forces to be sent home. The Iraqi government had requested it, and had put their own special ops forces in place. But they were still being observed by US commanders.'  
  
'Are you saying all operatives, and special ops forces in Iraq were sent home by special order a month ago?' Harm asked excitedly.  
  
'Yes sir, I guess it was about a month ago. You were on assignment for the Sec Nav at the time Gunny came in, and you were in court that day Ma'am.' Bud answered.  
  
Harm interrupted him. 'Bud, you may have given us the answer.' He looked at Sarah, who still looked a little confused. 'If all agents were ordered home, Clay would have been sent home. But CIA thought Clay was dead, so no order was given for him.'  
  
Sarah picked up the thread. 'But now he shows up alive and working under cover to break up a terrorist group, when he should not have been there at all.'  
  
Harm continued. 'CIA can't recognize Clay now because it would look like they didn't follow a direct Presidential Order, and it would anger our newest ally, a free Iraq. Clay being alive and working covertly over there now is an embarrassment to our government, and the CIA.'  
  
'Yes, Sir, that's what I said.' Said Bud.  
  
'Bud, can you get me a copy of that Presidential Order?' Harm asked quickly.  
  
'Yes, Sir.' And Bud left to go and find a copy in the government documents database.  
  
'How does this help Clay's case?' asked Sarah.  
  
'It doesn't really.' Harm answered, 'but at least we know why CIA is acting this way, and why no one will talk to us, and isn't likely to talk to us.' He thought for a moment, and then said 'I'm not sure what to do now. How do we get around a Presidential Order?'  
  
'He didn't know about the order. It was never given to him directly.' Sarah offered.  
  
'Well no, they couldn't, they thought he was dead.'  
  
Sarah thought a moment. 'Do you believe that CIA really thought he was dead? Could they have known all along where he was and what he was doing, and was reluctant to pull him out until he had completed the mission?'  
  
'It's possible, but they still would have had to get him out some how, or face this situation of having an operative still active in country after the order.' Harm said.  
  
'Unless the Marines came into quick for Clay to get out under cover, and now they are stuck prosecuting him because he got caught.' Sarah continued. 'I hate to think that Clay will go to prison for the rest of his life to cover some CIA administrator's butt.' She stated angrily.  
  
'If it does come down to that,' Harm said, 'I'm still not sure how we defend him.'  
  
The two officers were interrupted again, this time by Petty Officer Coates. '  
  
'Excuse me, Commander? Mrs. Webb is on line 2 for you, Sir.' She said, poking her head around the door frame to his office.  
  
Harm looked at Sarah, 'Mother. What do we tell her?'  
  
But Coates interjected, 'Oh, Commander, it's not Mrs. Webb, it's Mrs. Amy Webb on line 2.'  
  
'Amy!' Harm and Sarah said at the same time in surprise, and Harm immediately reached for his phone, punched the speaker, and punched line 2.  
  
'Amy? This is Harm, and Sarah is here too.' Harm spoke to the phone on his desk. He heart was pounding, finally she was contacting them. Maybe somehow she could help. She at least could help Clay. He needed her right now, more than ever. Each day they had gone to see him; he had asked if they had heard yet from his wife. And each day, Harm had to tell him, no, Amy had not called, and watch a little more hope fade from Clay's eyes.  
  
'Hello Harm, Sarah.' Came the voice over the speaker. It was Amy's voice, but it didn't sound like her somehow.  
  
'Amy where are you? Are you all right?' Harm asked her.  
  
'I'm fine. How is Clay? Was he hurt?' she asked.  
  
'Clay wasn't hurt, he is fine Amy.' Sarah answered. 'But he is frantic to talk to you.' She added.  
  
There was no response to this from Amy. There was a quiet moment as Harm and Sarah waited for her to say something. Finally she said. 'What about these charges, Harm. They are ridiculous. If Clay gets a paper cut he bleeds red, white and blue.'  
  
Harm was surprised she had changed the subject, and was disappointed she wouldn't say anything about talking to Clay soon, but he answered her question. 'Sarah and I are defending him, but it is a difficult case. The government is insisting on calling him John Doe, since officially Clayton Webb is dead. He can't even use his own name. And we are having trouble making a case for him having stayed in Iraq.'  
  
'What about talking with someone at CIA?' Amy interjected. 'Have you talked to Marcus Stillman?'  
  
'No one at CIA will talk to us.' Sarah answered. 'And Stillman won't take our calls.'  
  
Harm said. 'If I knew where he lived, I'd camp out on his front lawn.'  
  
'Why are they doing that?' Amy asked angrily.  
  
Harm was glad she at least showed some anger at how Clay was being treated by CIA. 'We just found out that there had been an order a little over a month ago to cease all special ops, and send all agents back to the US. The Iraqi government requested it, to get their intell forces up and running.'  
  
Amy put the pieces together. 'But they thought Clay was dead, so he never got the order, and now he shows up still operating uncover. The US government is stuck and has to prosecute him; otherwise it angers our newest ally, the new Iraqi Government, and cover some diplomatic butt in the process. That about right?' she says sarcastically.  
  
'That about sums it up, yeah.' Answered Harm.  
  
'Amy,' Sarah began. 'Clay really needs to talk to you. Where are you? He can take calls and accept visitors. Here, let me give you the number to call him.' And Sarah started to rummage through her case for the number.  
  
Amy said. 'Thank you anyway. I will be in touch.' And then she hung up.  
  
Sarah looked at Harm across the desk, a look of disappointment and surprise on her face.  
  
'What is she thinking?' Sarah asked, nor really expecting an answer.  
  
'You tell me, she is your friend!' Harm said.  
  
Sarah thought a moment, then said out loud, 'Amy has to deal with this in her own way. She has been through a lot these past months with Clay gone all the time. Then he was reported dead, and she grieved for him, and now she discovers he is alive. It all has to be quite a shock.' Sarah didn't know what her friend was feeling, she was just thinking out loud, trying to understand where her friend was coming from and trying to defend her. But Sarah was having a difficult time defending Amy's actions, and seemly disinterest in how her husband was doing, or offering him any support, when he needed her the most.  
  
'I feel like I have just talked to a CIA agent.' Harm remarked.  
  
'Why do you say that?' Sarah asked him.  
  
'She asked questions, and we gave her all the information we had, but when we asked questions, she ignored them, or gave us vague answers. We still don't know where she is, where she has been, if she is coming to help, or even see Clay!'  
  
Sarah had to agree with him. It felt like Amy had 'handled' them very well. 'What do we tell Clay?' she asked.  
  
'We tell him about the Presidential order. That is enough bad news for one day.' He replied.  
  
'We don't tell him we have heard from Amy? He will ask us, he always asks about her.'  
  
'No.' Harm replied. 'What would we tell him anyway? She called, but wouldn't tell us anything? We don't know if he will even see her again. No, we don't say anything for now. Let's get the order, and work on that, see if there is anything there that we can use to help in Clay's defense. If Amy shows up later, or calls us with more information of her plans, then we tell Clay.'  
  
Sarah nodded, thinking that it wasn't being fair to Clay, but it probably was for the best. They both opened their briefcases, and got down to work.  
  
Marcus Stillman Residence Arlington, VA 0240 local time Next morning  
  
The black clad figure moved quietly and carefully across the yard toward the sprawling, executive home. Everything was quiet on the street, and the last light in the house had gone off hours ago.  
  
The figure circled the house, examining cracks in the siding, and the corner covers very carefully. They moved around the house to the back, and found what they were looking for.  
  
Close to a high small window on the back wall of the garage there was a group of wires leaving the outside wall and entering the garage. The intruder pulled the siding away a little more, and began examining the bundle of wires.  
  
After a few moments, they seemed to have made a decision, and pulled out a wire cutter from a zippered pocket in their pants. In quick succession, the intruder clipped the wires in a particular order, and a soft hum that could barely be heard coming through the window, abruptly stopped.  
  
The wire cutters were put back in the zippered pants pocket, the siding was replaced on the garage, and the intruder moved over to the back garage door. Another zippered pocket was opened, and long handled instruments were taken out, and with gloved hands, the intruder started picking the deadbolt lock on the door. The tumblers scraped inside the lock, and the intruder whispered an 'Oops' then heard the lock bolt move, and the door was unlocked.  
  
The intruder opened the door, and entered the garage. The luxury sedan was parked there. The intruder held their breath and purposefully bumped into the car. If the alarm was on, they were going to have to run for it. But they assumed Marcus Stillman would have felt his car was safe, inside the security system that surrounded the garage, and would not turn on the separate alarm system of the car. Nothing happened. Marcus was lax in his sense of security within his own house. All the better.  
  
The intruder opened the back door to the sedan, and made themselves comfortable. They knew Marcus well enough to know he drove himself to his office at Langley early every morning. He told some people it was because he wanted to save taxpayer money, or that it kept him sharp, or he didn't like drivers, couldn't trust them. The intruder knew the real reason was that Marcus tended to get motion sick reading documents riding in the back seat of a car.  
  
The intruder settled down to wait.  
  
Marcus Stillman Residence Arlington, VA 0447 local time  
  
Marcus entered his garage carrying the morning paper and his briefcase. He had his keys in the other hand, and opened the car door and sat down behind the wheel. He slammed the door and reached over to the automatic garage door opener to open the door behind him, when a head popped up in the back seat.  
  
'Good Morning Marcus. You're an early riser.'  
  
Even though the CIA Assistant Director of Operations – Middle East was seated with his seat belt on behind the wheel of his car, his body jumped several inches to find someone greeting him from the back seat of his car, this early in the morning.  
  
'Amy!' he shouted in surprise, then waited for his heart to stop pounding in his chest. 'Are you trying to give me a heart attack?'  
  
'Sorry for the surprise Marcus.' Amy said with a playful smile.  
  
'How did you get in here!' he demanded.  
  
'Please, you call that little system of yours security? I had it figured out and disabled in under 3 minutes. But I'm rusty. I used to be in security, remember?' She paused, then added, 'Oh, and I owe you a new deadbolt lock on your back door. Sorry.' She offered.  
  
'What are you doing here?' Marcus asked.  
  
Amy stifled a yawn. 'Sleeping. Waiting to talk to you.'  
  
'What do you want to talk about that you have to do it in my garage?'  
  
'That's a stupid question, Marcus.' Amy said flatly.  
  
'There is nothing I can do to help him.' Marcus answered even before the conversation could begin. He didn't want to get into it with her.  
  
'No.' Amy said patiently. 'You mean there is nothing you will do for him. I'm here to change your mind.'  
  
Marcus looked at her through the rear view mirror. He had not expected this tactic, but if she was here now, they would talk now. 'Amy,' he began, but she interrupted him.  
  
'Tell me one thing, honestly for once Marcus. Did you believe Clay was dead?'  
  
Now he turned in the seat and looked at her in the eye. 'I don't play around with news like that Amy, certainly not with you and Porter. Yes, I believed Clay was dead.'  
  
Amy looked back at him, searching his face to see if this was the truth. The light was not very bright inside the car, but she could tell he was telling the truth to her on that subject. Amy went on with her questions.  
  
'How can you sit back and let Clay be prosecuted for treason? You ought to be ashamed of yourself Marcus.' Marcus turned back around and faced front again. She sounded like his mother, scolding him about not picking up his room. She went right for the heart of the matter though. He was ashamed to stand by and watch what was happening to Clay, but it was being handled higher up, and there was nothing he could do.  
  
Amy continued. 'Three generations of Webbs have worked in intelligence for this country. His father died on duty. And now you all are going let him be labeled a traitor and send him to prison for life, just to cover your butts?'  
  
'Amy, I don't know what you mean…' Marcus tried to explain, but Amy wasn't in the mood to listen. She had started now, and wasn't ready to stop yet.  
  
'I know about the Presidential Order, Marcus. You all thought Clay was dead, and now he shows up alive and it looks bad for everybody. But do you have to ruin him, and his good name, just to wrap up your mistake?'  
  
Marcus was silent. He didn't know what to say. She was right, but he had no answer for her. He waited.  
  
'What do you expect me to do Amy?' he asked finally.  
  
'Make some calls. Surely you have some contacts in Iraq who could help with this. Wouldn't it be better for everyone if it looked like Clay working for CIA, and the new Iraqi security forces had worked together to bring down Kharrat and his army?'  
  
Marcus started thinking, she may have something here. Let the Iraqis in on the operation to bring down Kharrat, and the new security forces gain some clout and prestige in their own country right off the bat. It could make CIA look good too, and would let Clay off the hook.  
  
Amy continued. 'You know it is the right thing to do, Marcus.'  
  
'I got rid of my conscience a long time ago, Amy.' Marcus said dryly.  
  
'Just consider me your conscience, Marcus.'  
  
'Why should I do this, besides appeasing my "conscience"?' he asked. 'What's in it for me?'  
  
'I'm giving you the chance to look good Marcus.' Amy answered him. She had got him thinking now; she just needed a little extra something to close the deal. 'Otherwise, I will make the calls myself and make CIA look bad, turn the story around that Clay had tried to involve CIA, but had gotten no cooperation, so began working for the new Iraqi security organization. I have my contacts too.' She bluffed.  
  
Marcus wasn't sure what to think. There was no doubt Amy had information that could be spun around to make CIA look bad, and they both knew the CIA didn't need anymore bad press. Marcus had tried to keep a close watch on Amy since the report of Clay's death, but she had disappeared a few months ago. He had thought it was the fatherly side of him coming out, try to watch over her, but it was also interest. He wanted some day to have a talk with her about applying her skills for the intelligence community. Recruiting was such a cold word among friends. She could have gone anywhere in the past 3 months, including Iraq, where she could have made all sorts of contacts. She had threatened to do just that when he told her Clay was dead. There was no telling what damage she could do to him, or the agency.  
  
He needed some time to think. He stalled. 'You want me to falsify records? Make up a cover story?'  
  
'It wouldn't be that big a stretch for you Marcus.' Amy answered sarcastically.  
  
He continued the banter. 'Answers like that are not going to get me to cooperate.' He chided her.  
  
'Pathetic excuses like that are not going to get me off your back.' She retorted.  
'Clay goes before a judge for a preliminary hearing tomorrow at 0900. You have until then.' Amy moved across the seat to get out on the passenger side.  
  
'What happens if I don't have things in place by then?' he asked.  
  
'I will be outside the court house ready to give my story then.' She answered matter of factly.  
  
Marcus thought for a moment more. It could be a bluff, but her plan could work too. 'I better get to work then.' He started the engine. 'Can I drop you somewhere Amy?' he offered, all friendly again.  
  
Amy got out of the car on the passenger side. 'No thanks Marcus. I'm fine.' She turned and walked out the back door of the garage as he pulled out in the opposite direction in his car.  
  
Federal Prison outside Baltimore, MD Cell of prisoner John Doe, 874 2007 hours local time  
  
Cmdr Harmon Rabb Jr. made his way through several security checks on his way to see his client. Due to the late hour, and the fact that they were appearing in court for the first time in the morning, Cmdr Rabb was given special permission to visit his client. However, at this time at night, the prisoners were in lock down, confined to their cells for the night, so Harm was going to see Clay in his cell.  
  
Harm had been in prisons before, each them were bleak. But as he was walking the cold hallways, this one seemed the worst some how. Or maybe it was because he was seeing his friend, and seeing for the first time the conditions he had been living in the past days.  
  
When Harm arrived at Clay's cell, he was sitting at the table, resting one arm on the table; the other was limp in his lap. Clay's back was turned from the cell bars, and hallway, so Harm could not see his face. He almost looked like a statue sitting there. The electronic door hummed and clanged as it opened, and Harm stepped inside. The sound was loudly repeated as the door slid closed behind him. Harm had seen the other cells in this area were empty, and so he felt they were somewhat alone for their conversation for last minute plans for tomorrow's appearance in the court.  
  
Clay had not turned around when Harm entered, he seemed lost in thought. Harm tried to get his attention. 'Clay.' But this got no response. He tried again, stepping further into the cell, saying his name a little louder, 'Clay.' But he still would not look up. Harm moved in front of him, and waved a hand in Clay's face. 'Hello? Anyone home?'  
  
Clay finally snapped out of wherever he was. 'Oh, Hi.' He said.  
  
Harm sat on the corner of the table, since there was no other chair in the cell. He took a good look at Clay. His friend's eyes were tried, and glassy. He had a couple days growth of beard on his chin, and hair was a mess. He did not look like the well groomed, confident person Harm was used to seeing.  
  
'You better snap out of this by tomorrow morning or we have lost before we get into court. You look terrible.'  
  
'Oh. I will.' Clay said despondently. 'Mother brought me one of my suits, and I'll get cleaned up, and shave I guess.' He said, indicating a suit that hung on a hanger from a hook, and sliding a hand across the stubble on his face.  
  
'That's not what I mean.' Harm said. 'You look defeated. You go in there tomorrow looking like this, and we have lost already.' Harm was trying to bolster Clay a little, try and give him back some confidence.  
  
'I have lost.' Clay replied sadly. Harm was quickly trying to come up with an answer, but Clay continued. 'I'm not a traitor Harm. And I don't want to go to prison for the rest of my life. I want to go home. I want the life I had begun with Amy, but I think that is over.' Clay looked away. He said, mostly to himself, 'If she is gone, I might as well be in prison.'  
  
'Hold on here. Let's take a look at your "Wife". Where the hell is she?' Harm was not happy with Amy's actions, or lack of action since this whole thing began. And to see Clay so despondent because of her, just made Harm madder.  
  
'Don't start Harm.' Clay warned.  
  
'Where is she when you need her? Some wife you have here.'  
  
'This isn't her fault, don't start on her. This is my fault.' Clay declared, just as angry as Harm now.  
  
'How do you figure that?' Harm wanted to know.  
  
'I broke one promise too many, that's what I mean.' Clay answered.  
  
'What promise was that? She knew what she was getting into when she married you.'  
  
'And I left her to serve my country half world away within 12 hours of exchanging vows.' Clay countered.  
  
'There are a lot of people serving over there that got married and boarded a ship or plane to go serve their country.' Harm pointed out correctly.  
  
'They write or call or can email their families, almost everyday. For four months all Amy got from me was a taped message that lasted about a minute. Then she received a report that I was dead. Now I am sure she doesn't know what to think.'  
  
'No matter what she thinks, she should be here for you now!' Harm insisted.  
  
'Why?' Asked Clay. 'I wasn't there for her when she needed me. Ever.'  
  
'I'm not having that argument with you again. You were following orders. Keeping yourself safe, keeping me and Sarah safe.'  
  
They both knew Harm was right, but it still hurt Clay to think about leaving Amy at the hands of those terrorists. That all seemed so long ago.  
  
'I just feel I have lost her for good this time Harm.' Clay said quietly.  
  
'Want to tell me about it?' Harm asked. He didn't know what Clay was talking about for sure, but if it would help him to talk about it, Harm was ready to listen.  
  
'Amy wasn't in Oregon visiting a friend. She doesn't know anyone in Oregon.' Clay began.  
  
'Where was she then?'  
  
'In Iraq with me. We were together for 3 days.' Clay was looking at Harm to watch his reaction. He was rewarded with the look of utter surprise that moved across Harm's face.  
  
'What was she doing there?' Harm asked.  
  
'She had been recruited by CIA, Marcus Stillman, to go and set up a safe house for agents working under cover. She had contacts, supplies, money, and we could pass information on to her to bring back here. She had no idea she would see me, and I of course had not expected to see her. Marcus had set us both up.'  
  
He paused in his story here, and Harm asked. 'Why send Amy? Why was it a set up?'  
  
'Amy had orders to give exit plans to get the agents home, whether the mission was complete or not. Marcus sent her knowing she would find me, and I would have a tough time ignoring the request from my wife.' Clay was angry at the memory of how Stillman had used Amy this way, and it showed again as he shared his story with Harm. 'She had all the exit papers, tickets, contacts to get me out of Iraq and back to Washington. I promised her I would come home in one month, no matter what.'  
  
'Within a couple of weeks, I had lost Kharrat's trail. I had never really found him again after going to the safe house. So I prepared to come home. I was ready. I was so damn tired, tired of being alone, of living on the edge like that for so long.' He paused here, still feeling tired, and living on the edge. 'I was at the train station, had the ticket in my hand.'  
  
Harm knew what happened next, and picked up the story. 'That is when you saw Kharrat, and joined his group.'  
  
Clay nodded. 'I tore up the ticket, and got in line.'  
  
'But,' Harm interjected, 'If you had gotten on the train, you would have been killed. It was that train that exploded later that day.' 'Yes.' Clay answered. 'But I broke my promise. Maybe I would have survived. Either way, I let her think I was dead for three months.' He paused, was staring at something on the floor, a million miles away. 'All I ever did was break promises to her. And all she ever wanted was to love me.'  
  
Harm sat quietly looking at his friend; at felt maybe he had been wrong to withhold information from him too. Clay had told him the whole story. Now, it was his turn.  
  
'She called the other day.' Harm said.  
  
Clay looked up at him. 'She called, and you didn't tell me? Where is she? Is she all right? Is she coming?'  
  
'I asked all the same questions, and received no answers to any of them. I wanted more information before I got your hopes up. I'm sorry.' Harm confessed.  
  
'What did she say? What did you talk about?' Clay asked.  
  
'We told her about your case. She knows about the hearing tomorrow. We gave her all the information she asked for, but she gave us none in return. I had the distinct feeling I had just talked with a CIA agent.' Harm said jokingly.  
  
That started Clay thinking. 'CIA?' he said. And for the first time since coming back to the states, a slight smile moved across Clay's face.  
  
'What is it?' Harm asked guardedly. 'You don't think Amy is an agent now?'  
  
Clay looked over at Harm, 'No.' he said. 'Amy hates CIA, she would never work for them. But she knew Stillman liked her, and was interested in recruiting her. CIA keeps a close tab on the family of an agent that is killed. Stillman would never have approached her yet, but she may have felt it was coming. She ran away to get away from CIA. That's why she was so careful not to leave a money trail or any trail.'  
  
'And that's a good thing?' Harm asked, as he watched the smile get bigger on his face, and life spark in Clay's eyes again.  
  
'Well, yes.' Clay said as if it was obvious. 'It means she didn't run away from me, or any chance I may come back. She didn't completely believe I was dead, maybe, but she ran from CIA, not me.' He paused. 'Maybe I still have a chance.' He thought out loud.  
  
Suddenly he felt full of energy. He finally had some hope. He stood up, ready to do whatever he had to do to gain his freedom again. 'What do we have to do Harm?' he asked excitedly. 'I'll do whatever you say. You have to get me out of here, so I can go out there, and find my wife.'  
  
Harm was glad to see this change in Clay. He felt bad he had not told Clay about Amy's call before this. He had come here tonight to go over Clay's testimony one more time, and now he looked ready to work. 'Let's get to work.' Harm said.  
  
Federal Court, Room 25 Federal Court of the District of Columbia 0900 local time  
  
The judge entered, and called the court to order. The government representatives were there in their suits, and the defense was across the isle, in full dress uniforms of a Naval Commander and a Marine Colonel. The accused was in a dark three piece suit, that looked a little to large for him, as if he had recently lost weight.  
  
The clerk read the charges of the Government vs. John Doe 874; Treasonous activities against the United States of America in a foreign country.  
  
'How does the accused plead?' the judge asked curtly.  
  
'Not guilty, your honor.' Clay answered strongly.  
  
'Please be seated.' The judge said. Then he turned slightly toward the other side, and addressed the counsel for the government. 'Since this is a preliminary hearing, we will dispense with opening statements. Please call your first witness.'  
  
The government lawyer stood. 'The government calls….' But he was interrupted by someone entering the court room from the back.  
  
'Excuse the interruption your honor. May I have a word?'  
  
Walking up the isle was Marcus Stillman. He looked only at the judge, keeping eye contact with him, and not looking at anyone else in the room.  
  
'What is the meaning of this? Who are you!' demanded the judge as Marcus approached the bench.  
  
Marcus reached up and over the high desk, and used his hand to cover the microphone and had a quick, whispered conversation with the judge.  
  
Harm and Sarah sat in complete amazement. Clay's heart was pounding, and his ears were straining to hear what Marcus was saying. All he heard was '…talk in chambers…' They were going to move to the judge's chambers. Was that good or bad? Clay had no idea.  
  
After the hushed conversation at the front, the judge turned his attention to the counselors. 'Will both parties please join us in chambers?' Harm and Sarah looked at each other, and stood up, grabbing their notes. Clay stood also, then stopped and looked up. The judge continued. 'Bailiff, please escort the accused to a waiting room.'  
  
'No, wait a minute.' Clay began. He wanted to go into the chambers too. It was his life they were discussing after all. But the bailiff came forward, and pulled out the hand cuffs and began putting them on Clay again. He looked imploringly at Harm. 'Harm, can't you say something?'  
  
Harm shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't make the rules, the judge does. Sit tight. We will let you know as soon as possible.'  
  
Sarah looked at Clay too. 'It will be fine. Don't worry.' She said, though she was not convinced either.  
  
Clay watched helplessly as the judge, Stillman, and all the lawyers left the court room through the back door, and the bailiff started guiding him through a side door. He caught one last glimpse of his Mother, who was sitting in the back. She nodded her head in encouragement as if to say 'It's all right, Clayton.' Then he was pushed out the door, and down a hallway.  
  
They brought him to a small room with a couple chairs and a table. The bailiff took the cuffs off, and left him alone in the room, locking the door behind him.  
  
Waiting room Five Federal Court of The District of Columbia 0947 local time  
  
Clay had been in the waiting room alone, alternately pacing and sitting in one of the chairs. He didn't know how much time had passed since there was no clock in room, and he was not allowed to wear a watch. What was going on? What was taking so long? It seemed like hours since he had been lead from the court room, but it probably wasn't that long. What was Marcus doing here? Was it a good thing that he was here? He hoped it would not be too much longer, he didn't know how he was going to handle it.  
  
Suddenly the door opened and Harm and Sarah walked in, both with broad smiles on their faces.  
  
'The charges have been dropped!' Harm announced. 'You are free to go, Mr. Webb.'  
  
'What?' Clay couldn't believe his ears. 'What happened?'  
  
'Stillman came through.' Sarah said. 'He presented documents showing the Iraqi government knew you were in place, undercover in Kharrat's camp. They wanted you to stay in place until the Iraqi security forces and US Marines were ready to move on the camp.'  
  
'I never worked with the Iraqi security forces. I tried to contact people on the outside, but never did make contact, I told you that.' Clay said nervously.  
  
'According to Stillman, you didn't have to, they knew you were there, their operatives had reported that you were working inside the compound, and were waiting for the right time to move in or contact you for more help. As it turned out, they didn't need your help, and just moved in on the compound.' Harm explained.  
  
'Don't you see Clay?' Sarah continued. 'This clears you of the Presidential Order. Since the Iraqis have confirmed they knew you were still there working, and accepted your presence, you were not breaking the law, and not working for the enemy. The treason charges have been dropped.'  
  
Clay was still having trouble accepting it all. 'I can leave?' he asked carefully.  
  
'Anytime you want to.' Sarah smiled at him.  
  
'I don't know where to go.' Clay confessed.  
  
'Well,' Harm said. 'Why don't we go see your Mother for starters, then we can start looking for your wife.' He suggested.  
  
That finally got through to Clay. 'Let's go.' He said, breaking into a large smile of his own, and walking through the door.  
  
All three of them walked down the hallway, and exited the building. Porter Webb and Marcus Stillman were both there waiting for them. 'I'm so happy for you Clay.' His mother said, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek.  
  
'Thank you mother.' Clay said, and turning to Marcus, shaking his hand. 'I guess I have you to thank too, Marcus. I probably owe you my life.' He said, knowing Marcus had put the story together to cover Clay's tracks and get the charges dropped. Marcus smiled at him. 'My pleasure, Clay. I knew you were no traitor.'  
  
'What made you finally come forward?' Harm wanted to know.  
  
'Let's say I had an attack of conscience.' Marcus answered.  
  
Turning back to Porter, Clay said, 'Mother, I want to head to your house first, then try and find Amy.'  
  
Looking across the sidewalk, toward the parking lot, Porter said, 'I don't think you will have to look very hard, Clayton.'  
  
Everyone turned and saw Amy getting out of a car. She saw them all looking at her and stayed behind the car that was beside hers. She stood there between the cars, looking over the roof, not sure what to do next.  
  
Clay didn't take his eyes off her. He walked down the sidewalk, and started running to her in the parking lot. When he got close Amy held up her hand and said, 'Stop right there Clay. Tell me what you have to say from right there.'  
  
The others came up behind him, and watched, concerned what she was going to do. Harm was afraid she may decide to get back in her car and drive away. He didn't know what Clay would do then, or how he would be able to help his friend if this conversation did not go well.  
  
Clay's heart was racing. She was here. She looked beautiful. 'I forgot how beautiful you are.' He told her. 'Just let me look at you.' He paused. All the things he had practiced saying to her, in those endless hours in a prison cell, or time he had lived in the compound, were gone now. He couldn't think of what to say to her.  
  
'Amy,' he began, 'I'm sorry. I know I have broken my promise to you. I've broken so many.' He stopped. She was just standing there, with no expression on her face, good or bad. He was feeling a little scared now. 'Amy, tell me what I can do, or say to make it right; to get a chance.'  
  
She kept looking at him, not knowing herself what to say. She moved her attention to the small group of friends behind him, seeing Marcus Stillman among them.  
  
'Hello Marcus.' She said.  
  
'Hello Amy.' He replied.  
  
'Harm,' she asked, 'have the charges been dropped?'  
  
'Yes. Mr. Stillman here came forward with evidence that cleared Clay from breaking the Presidential order, which then cleared him from the charge of treason.'  
  
Amy nodded her head. Clay was still looking at her, his heart on his face. He loved her, and needed her, and he was waiting for her answer. She hated to make him wait, but all her questions were not answered yet.  
  
She turned back to Marcus. 'Marcus, does Clay still have his job with CIA come Monday morning?'  
  
Now everyone looked to the CIA officer, to wait for his answer, except Clay, whose attention had not left his wife. Marcus looked at the people around him, looked at Clay, and then looked back at Amy. 'No, he doesn't' he answered simply.  
  
Clay turned around and faced him at this answer. How could he say that? What did he mean?  
  
Marcus continued, talking directly to Clay, 'I'm sorry, but I can no longer use you in the field Clay. The whole world knows you are a CIA agent after today. You will become our unwanted poster boy.'  
  
Clay looked away, understanding the truth in what Marcus said. He would be a liability in the field now. As he thought about that, and what it meant, he realized it didn't matter.  
  
Marcus was still talking. 'This doesn't mean you are finished at CIA, Clay. You are still a valuable asset for research, analysis, and direction of field operatives, but you will be doing it all much closer to home from now on.'  
  
It was this last sentence that hit Clay right in the heart; "Closer to home". That was what mattered now. He had enough of the travel, and danger, and everything that went with that kind of life. Clay looked back at Amy. Now she looked nervous. 'Can you accept that Clay?' she asked him.  
  
He knew now he could. 'Amy, I don't care if I have to dig ditches all day, as long as I can come home to you every night. Please, I want to come home, and home is wherever you are.'  
  
Amy looked down at her feet, almost afraid of the raw emotion she saw on Clay's face. She was afraid, afraid if he would believe what she was about to tell him. But the time had come. She couldn't hide anymore.  
  
She stepped out from behind the car. Amy had always had a slim build. Now however, there was a decidedly round thickening in her middle. She was obviously pregnant. 'That home better be big enough for three, Clay.' She said, looking at herself, and then looking up to him. Now her heart was in her eyes. She was afraid he and all of them would assume the worst of her. 'It happened when we were together in Iraq Clay.' And she couldn't help it, she started to cry, afraid of what he would say, and what the others would say.  
  
'Oh, Amy.' Clay moved to her and took her in his arms, kissing her hair, and face and lips.  
  
As the couple reunited, the group of friends and family stood awestruck. Marcus spoke first. 'If there is any question in anyone's mind, I assure you, Clay and Amy were together for 3 or 4 days, four months ago in Iraq. And, that looks to be about the right timing.' He said nodding towards Amy and her new shape.  
  
Porter replied. 'Of course it's Clay's. Amy loves him, and never for a minute believed he was dead. I just feel bad she had to go through the past months alone.'  
  
'That's why she left.' Sarah stated. 'None of us knew she had been with Clay. Then she suddenly finds herself pregnant, but couldn't tell us about the trip to Iraq.' Sarah glanced over to Stillman. 'She was under too strict of orders at the time, am I right?'  
  
Stillman nodded. 'For her own protection, and Clay's.' he stated, knowing now it probably didn't have to be so secret.  
  
'Well, Mrs. Webb,' Harm said. 'It looks like you are about to become a grandmother. What do you think of that?'  
  
'I think it is about time.' She said. 'And I prefer the name "Nana".' Everyone smiled at that, as they watched the couple move off to the car Amy had arrived in, their arms still wrapped around one another. Though the group behind them could not see their faces, they would have been pleased to see the couple were wiping tears from their eyes, and had bright smiles on their faces.  
  
The End Chapter 11 Webb Odyssey Book 1 


	12. Epilogue

Author: Claire Vincent

Date: October 2004

Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belongs to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For you reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.

WEBB Odyssey

Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.

This is the last chapter of this Webb Odyssey. There may be another one in the works. Let me know what you think.

Epilogue

Clayton Webb Residence

Arlington, VA

1612 local time

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, the kind Clay liked best. He and Amy had a leisurely day starting with church services early, then coming home and having brunch and reading the paper.

Right now Amy was outside puttering in the garden, and he was catching up on some work he had brought home from the office. Clay wasn't sure how Amy was able to work in the garden much these days. She had to work around the baby that was protruding out from her middle. People had said that from the back she hardly looked pregnant, that the baby was all in the front. Amy of course complained that she looked, and felt as big as a house. Clay thought she had never looked more beautiful.

She had her good days, and bad days. Lately, she seemed to have new energy, and kept herself busy all the time. He had suggested she relax in the garden this afternoon instead of working in it, but she said she was too restless, and wanted to get the work done before the baby came. Clay had let her go, with instructions not to over do it, and had gone into his home office to work.

As he typed away on a report, he heard his wife's voice from the doorway. 'Clay.'

'Just a minute.' He replied. He wanted to finish this thought.

'Clay, I need your help.' She said a little more insistently.

'Yeah, I'll be right there....' He said, still typing frantically.

'Clay, look at me!' she insisted.

He glanced over the top of his laptop screen, never missing a key stroke. He took in her clothes, which looked wet, and still typing asked, 'What happened honey? Did you lose a fight with the hose?'

'No Clay,' came her reserved reply. 'My water broke.' She was trying to wait patiently for him to catch on to what was happening. She didn't want to really surprise him, but she needed his attention.

'Your water broke.' He repeated, finishing his thought on the computer screen. Just as he hit the save button, it dawned on him. 'Your water broke!' he immediately stood up and walked toward her. 'Why didn't you say some thing!' he asked.

'I was trying....' She answered, and then bent down as she felt a sharp pain across her middle. Clay rushed over to hold her and steady her so she wouldn't fall, waiting for the pain to pass. Were contractions supposed to start this quickly? The thought crossed his mind. Well, they were starting, ready or not.

As the pain eased a little, the same thought crossed Amy's mind, along with the question of whether they were supposed to be this hard right away. She was using the breathing techniques they had been taught in labor classes, and felt better as the contraction eased. 'We better get to the hospital.' She said between breaths.

'Right.' Clay agreed, and started walking with her toward the front door. The car was in the driveway, her bag packed and in the trunk, for just this situation. He had her seated, and belted in her seat, as another hard contraction came over her. Clay stayed by her side, coaching her breathing as the pain came and went. He asked, 'Can I get you anything before we head to the hospital?'

'No.' she said decisively, 'just get me to the hospital.' Amy was getting worried. The pains were very strong, and coming close together.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take much longer than Amy remembered, as the contractions came on stronger and faster with each passing one. Clay helped as much as he could, but he was also getting worried. Luckily it was a Sunday afternoon, and traffic was light.

When he pulled up at the hospital he decided to go through the emergency room, not the main lobby. He felt Amy needed to be seen by a doctor as soon as possible.

He came around to the passenger side of the car to help her out, but she was having yet another contraction, 'Get a chair' she gasped, and he turned and ran into the building looking for a wheel chair. Two were folded and waiting inside the door, he grabbed one, and went back out to the car. Waiting for a lull in the pains, Clay helped her into the wheel chair, then quickly brought her into the ER.

Mercy Hospital

Arlington, VA

1650 local time

Amy was brought into an exam room immediately, and nurses came around to help her into a dry hospital gown, and make her more comfortable on an exam table. Clay stepped aside to let them help, but stayed close if Amy needed him. They were all smiling and asking if this was their first one, when was she due, and generally making small talk about babies. This helped calm Clay down a little, they knew what they were doing, and everything was going to be all right.

A nurse placed a monitor on Amy's swollen middle, and the room filled with the fast thump, thump, of the baby's heart beat. Clay's almost matched the speed when he first heard it. 'That's awful fast.' He stated nervously, 'Should it really sound like that?'

One of the nurses was checking a gauge on the monitor, and slowly said, 'Yes...Mr. Webb. I'm going to get the doctor now and everything should be fine.' She smiled at him as she passed out of the room to go find the doctor.

Another nurse left behind her, and the last nurse was pulling supplies out of a cabinet. Clay stepped up closer to Amy and looked down at her taking her hand. Her face was flushed, and had a light sheen of sweat on it; her hair was sticking to her forehead. She looked a little calmer too, now that they were safely at the hospital. Clay smiled at her and repeated the nurse's words. 'Everything will be all right.'

Amy nodded, then suddenly, her face contorted with pain, and her body bowed up from the table in a grip of a contraction. She squeezed Clay's hand, almost crushing it. 'What's wrong?' he shouted. The monitor was beeping at a high pitch, and the nurse ran over to Amy. 'What's the matter? What's happening?' Clay demanded, but he could see the nurse had no answers for him yet.

At this moment, one of the other nurses rushed back in, and close on her heels was a doctor. A nurse pushed Clay away to get at Amy, another came up to him, saying 'Please wait outside. We will let you know what is happening as soon as possible.'

Clay had a more questions, and a refusal to leave on his lips, when he noticed he had been pushed out of the room. He watched the door close, and could only see through the small window, however with nurses rushing, and the doctor giving orders, he could not tell what was going on.

He waited helplessly, and saw Amy relax again on the exam table. The nurses began piling things around her on the table, and moving equipment out of the way of the door where Clay stood.

The doctor stepped out, and looked at Clay, clearly with bad news. 'Mr. Webb.' She said.

'What is happening? Is my wife all right?' Clay tried to ask calmly.

'Your wife is bleeding, and the baby is in distress. We will be moving her to surgery for an emergency C-section. My name is Dr. Cynthia Mauer. I will perform the surgery.'

'Are they going to be all right?' Clay asked, and was suddenly afraid of the answer.

The doctor looked him in the eye, 'We will do everything we can, Mr. Webb. I have to get upstairs. You can come up with your wife, and wait upstairs.' Then she turned and headed for the elevators.

Clay swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat. He didn't know what to do. Behind him he heard a bang, and the exam table that carried Amy came out of the ER room, and headed in a different direction for another set of elevators. Clay turned, and jogged to catch up.

Amy was breathing hard, and had her eyes closed. 'I'm right here Amy.' Clay said walking beside the gurney, but he was not sure she heard him. They entered the elevator, and started on their way upstairs. The only sound was Amy's breathing, and quiet moans of pain.

The doors opened, and they rushed out again, down a hall, and through some more double doors. One of the nurses stopped at the doors, and grabbed Clay's arm. 'You will have to wait in there, Mr. Webb. I'm sorry.' She said, indicating the waiting room on the right. 'We will do everything we can for your wife and baby. Dr. Mauer is one of the best. Believe me.' Then she turned and walked into the surgical area.

Clay walked over to the waiting room in a daze. He couldn't believe this was all happening. He walked around the room, looking out the window, and then paced again over to the doors, but could see no one inside. Presumably they were in an operating room now. He walked back to the waiting room. He realized he hated being alone. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone, and found that he had rushed out of the house without it. There was a phone on the table, so he picked it up and dialed a number from memory.

Mercy Hospital

Arlington, VA

1723 local time

Harm and Sarah dropped everything at their place, and made it in record time to the hospital as soon as they received Clay's call. He was worried, and afraid, and didn't want to be alone. Could they come to the hospital? He didn't know who else to call.

They were here now, and would wait with him. Try and reassure him, but they were worried too. After the initial hellos, and how is she, and what did the doctor say, sort of questions when they first arrived, the three of them waited quietly in the waiting room. Both Harm and Sarah were trying to find something else to say, to keep Clay talking.

Harm asked, 'Have you called your Mother yet? Or Amy's father?'

'I didn't want to worry them.' Clay answered. He knew it sounded like a poor excuse, but he didn't see the point of worrying then until he had some real news. What he hoped would be good news. And Amy's father was so far away, he hated the thought of scaring him, and making wait by the phone, alone in Wisconsin.

Harm nodded at Clay's answer. He tried to think of excuses for Clay to make the calls, but maybe it was better not to call the other family members yet, and have to explain everything over again. Besides, Clay didn't know what was going on, or what had gone wrong, only that his wife was in surgery, and he was out here waiting to hear the outcome.

Sarah wanted to ask if they had picked out names for the baby, or make small talk about if the room was ready yet. She knew Amy had been working on it, and had been sewing curtains, and a crib quilt, but she had not seen them yet. Somehow talking about these happy, anticipation things didn't seem to fit in the tense atmosphere of the waiting room, so she kept quiet. She was worried for her friend, and wished that at least this happy event would have gone smoothly for Amy and Clay.

Time passed slowly. None of them knew how long something like this was supposed to take, and if it took longer, was that a bad sign?

A couple of times nurses came out of the surgical area, but they did not come to the waiting room to give them any information. Each time the door opened, Clay's heartbeat raced, then would fall back again when the people walked by, or over to the nurse's station.

After what seemed like hours, a nurse in surgical scrubs finally came out of the automatic surgical doors, and walked over to the waiting room. Clay had sat down again, for the hundredth time to try and calm down, he was looking away when he heard the doors open, and was trying not to expect anything, when he heard a polite, 'Mr. Webb?'

He turned to her and stood up in one fluid motion, hope and worry showing equally on his face. 'Yes. How is she?'

The nurse smiled a tired smile. 'Your wife is fine. And so is your daughter. They will be brining her out in just a few minutes. After that you will be able to see your wife in the recovery room.' Then she turned, and walked back over to the nurses' station.

Clay had only heard the first sentence. 'Your wife is fine.' The words spread through him like a warm tonic. Then one other word echoed on their heels. Daughter. It's a girl. We have a girl. I have a baby girl.

As this was beginning to seep in, Harm came over and slapped on the back. 'A girl! Congratulations Clay, that's wonderful.' He said with a big smile.

'A girl.' Clay answered. Then he looked up into Harm's happy face, and returned it with a big smile of his own. 'It's a girl, and she is fine.'

Sarah came up and gave him a hug. 'Congratulations Clay.' She said. 'It's a girl' he told her. Sarah laughed at him. 'I know, I heard.' She said. After the time of being so worried, they were all a little light headed, and they all started laughing.

'I have to call Mother.' Clay said, and started moving toward the phone on the table. The automatic doors opened again, and a cart, with a large clear box on the top came rolling out. Inside were some hospital supplies, and a little bundle, wrapped up in pink.

When Harm saw the cart come over to the waiting room, he called over his shoulder to Clay. 'There is someone here to see you, Clay.' He said.

Clay turned and saw the nurse pushing the cart. He replaced the phone and stepped over to look inside.

There lay his new daughter. She had a stocking cap on her head and a sort of scowl on her face, with her bottom lip sticking out. She didn't look too happy to be here. Her skin seemed so thin; he could see blood vessels just underneath, giving her a very red color. She was bound up tight in the blanket, but one arm was sticking out from the top, and a tiny hand was in a fist, lying close to her cheek.

Clay was amazed at the perfect little finger, complete with wrinkled knuckles and impossibly small finger nails. 'Hello there.' Clay was at a loss for words. What do you say to a new baby? Your baby? Then he realized it didn't matter. He tentatively held out a finger and touched first her little fist, then stroked her cheek. Her face relaxed and her mouth started moving as if she was sucking on something, then it stopped as suddenly as it started, and she seemed to go to sleep.

Harm and Sarah walked over and looked inside the small crib on the cart also. Both of them have that soft sort of smile everyone has when looking at a new baby.

'Oh, she's beautiful!' Sarah said.

'She looks like you Clay.' Harm said.

Clay noticed that there is just a little bit of dark hair sticking out from the stocking cap. And he begins to notice the shape of her nose, and set of her eyes.

He smiles. 'Yes, maybe she does.'

Clay looks quickly at the nurse standing patiently by, 'May I hold her?' he asked hopefully.

The nurse takes in the tired look of the new father, knowing what he went through in the past couple of hours. 'Not right now.' She says carefully. 'I'll take her down to the nursery, and you can see her there, and you can holder her a little later.'

Clay nods his head. 'All right.' He steps aside to let the nurse through, never taking is eyes off the pink bundle on the cart.

Harm's voice breaks into his thoughts. 'We will head home now, and let you go see Amy.'

'Please stay.' Clay said. 'I'm sure Amy will want to see you both.'

Sarah smiles and laughs at this. 'I'm sure she will not want to see any visitors right now. You give her our love and tell her we will come by tomorrow, after she has a chance to get some rest.' She leans in and gives Clay an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

'Give her our best Clay.' Harm says, patting him on the back again.

'Thanks for everything.' Clay says, as they turn to leave.

A few minutes later, another nurse comes to the waiting room and tells Clay he can come back to recovery, and see Amy.

Amy was in a long room, curtained off to give some privacy to the patients there. The nurse directed Clay to where Amy was laying. She looked pale and small on the bed. Clay thought she was asleep, and was afraid to wake her. But as soon as he touched her hand, and leaned in to kiss her forehead, her eyes popped open.

'Hi' she said sleepily.

'Hi yourself.' Clay said softly.

Amy closed her eyes again, but asked, 'Did you see her?'

'She's beautiful. Just like her mother.' He said softly.

'Mom isn't very beautiful right now' Amy said with a smile, but she appreciated the compliment none the less. 'She looks like you.'

Clay nodded, 'Yes, maybe. Poor girl.' He said smiling.

'Both my girls are beautiful.' Clay stated. Amy opened her eyes again and saw his face. They smiled at each other, saying I love you without any words.

'You're Dad was right.' Clay said.

'What was he right about?' Amy asked, and closed her eyes again. She just couldn't seem to keep them open.

'He told me once that if I ever was lucky enough to have a daughter, I would know that no man would ever be good enough for my little girl.' Clay smiled a little at the memory. Those were not his exact words, but close enough for a moment like this. 'I will do everything I can to be a good father to her, Amy.' Clay promised, swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat. From the bottom of his heart he meant it. He would go out and make the world a better place for his family, or give up his life to protect them. His girls, his family. He was the luckiest man in the world.

'I love you so much.' He whispered, not know what else to say.

Amy's smile was fainter now; she was losing the battle to stay awake. 'I love you too.' She whispered back.

Clay leaned over to gently kiss her again. 'I will go check on our daughter, and let you get some rest.' He said, but she did not hear him, she was asleep.

Clay left the recovery room and followed directions to the nursery. The nurse there put a wrist band on him, so he could be identified and allowed to come in and hold his new baby daughter. It is another reminder of the need for safety and protection in an unpredictable world. He made a mental note that his work can help make the world a better place for his little girl, but he also vowed to be beside her, whenever she needed him.

The nurse sat him down in the biggest wooden rocking chair he had ever seen, then she brought over the little cart with the clear box on top which held his baby girl. She picked her up, and placed her into Clay's hands. She was so small, he could just about hold all of her in his hands alone, but he brought her in close to his chest. She looked up at him with the biggest bluest eyes he had ever seen, staring at his face as if she would memorize it. He remembered reading that new born infants were not very alert usually, and could not see very well, but his daughter seemed to be the exception as she stared into his face.

'Hi.' He said, 'I'm your father.' He paused. 'And I already love you so much.' His voice caught here and he had to stop a moment.

'I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but your name is Claudia Porter Webb, after both of your grandmothers.' The baby blinked at this. 'It's a nice name, we thought. At least you get two pretty nice family names, not 4 names like I did.'

Father and daughter examined each other, then she yawned, her little pink bow of a mouth stretching up, and she closed her eyes, and fell asleep. Clay sat back and made himself comfortable, and began gently rocking, it seemed the natural thing to do. Everything was going to be all right now. Everything was right in his world.

THE END

This may not be the end of the Clay and Amy story. Let me know what you think.


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